


Desideratum

by ashitanoyuki



Series: Desideratum [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (Tragic anime backstory required to ride with Lotor), Alternate Universe - Military, Conquest, Corporal Punishment, Diplomacy, Diplomatic Negotiations, Emperor Sendak, Ethical murder, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Galra Keith, Galra Military, Hurt/Comfort, Imperialism, Imprisonment, M/M, Mercy Killing, Morally Grey Characters, Multi, Other, Past Abuse, Politics, Public Punishment, Reading to Each Other, Rebellion, Rescue Missions, Sharing a Bed, Shiro was the original Shiro the whole time because Operation Kuron inconveniences the author, Slavery, Slow Burn, Team as Family, Temporary Character Death, Torture, Trophy of War, War Crimes, Whipping, canon-compliant character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-09 03:25:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 56
Words: 141,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12879189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashitanoyuki/pseuds/ashitanoyuki
Summary: Pressed into the Galra military at a young age, Keith finds purpose and belonging when he is recruited by Prince Lotor. Keith finds a family amongst Lotor's generals, and Lotor himself.But the reality of war requires sacrifices and hard choices. As obstacles pile on and the stakes rise, Keith finds himself forced to make difficult decisions. When forced to decide, though, Keith knows where his loyalties lie.Keith will always choose Lotor.(Summary updated 4 Aug 2018)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not kidding when I say this is a slow burn, or when I complain about it being filled with OCs. Hopefully you'll find it interesting nonetheless!
> 
> This was my NaNoWriMo project, so I've written pretty far ahead. New chapters will be posted on Fridays. I'll make a note if the update schedule changes or has to slow down.
> 
> Eta: Updates every Saturday by 11:59 pm EST.

Deep space was boring. The occasional blip sounded here and there – calls to drop supplies on border-moons, or the occasional summons for help in putting down a rebellion on an isolated renegade planet.

The signal emanating from the mid-sized blue planet was different. Tasera had never seen readings quite like it – similar to a regular Galran distress beacon, but on a slightly removed frequency, as if the signal was designed to be hidden from prying eyes. Truthfully, if they’d been stationed at any outpost in the sector other than System X-9-Y, he doubted the ship would have ever picked up the signal – it was only the remoteness of their location that allowed the communications officers to flip through other channels without direct orders from their superiors.

“Should we check it out, Captain?” Petty Officer Faskre asked nervously, her tail flicking idly from side to side, her ears flat against her head. It was her first mission in uncontrolled territory, Tasera recalled as he noticed her unease. It made sense. No one ever _liked_ being stationed on the outskirts of the empire, but deployments to the edges of their control were generally boring and predictable. The occasional rebellions or attacks from rebel forces were easy enough to squash, and any inhabited planets were generally too primitive to initiate any sort of contact with the fleet.

To say that the distress beacon was unexpected was putting it mildly.

“Hail Commander Hazuur,” he said after a moment of quiet. As the senior officer in this sector, Hazuur should be notified of any anomalies, even if he left the final decision to Tasera.

Petty Officer Faskre nodded, her fingers flying rapidly over the screen in front of her. Tasera straightened his back and stood at attention as the bridge’s viewscreen flickered to life. He recognized the commander’s second-in-command on sight from the routine briefings they held once per movement.

“Captain Tasera,” the figure on the screen said, nodding a greeting. “The next briefing isn’t scheduled for another three quintants. Is something wrong?”

“That remains to be seen, Lieutenant Jaxim,” Tasera said, forcing himself to keep from fidgeting. “My ship intercepted a distress beacon from the third planet in System X-9-Y.”

Jaxim drew back slightly, their eyes narrowing. “That system isn’t home to any race advanced enough to create a proper distress signal. Did you pull the readings?” Before waiting for a reply, they turned to address one of the enlisted soldiers on the bridge. “Deliver a message to the commander telling him I request his presence on the bridge,” they ordered, then turned back to face the screen. “I assume you pulled the readings.”

“Of course,” Tasera replied, inclining his head. “My people will send them your way immediately,” he said, gesturing for Petty Officer Faskre to begin the transfer. “The signal is similar to one of ours, but it was on the wrong frequency and contained some unusual blips that obscured the message.”

Jaxim nodded. “File received,” they said, looking down to pull it up on their screen. Their eyes widened, and they took a step backwards, staring at the readings with shock. “This isn’t possible,” they whispered.

Tasera allowed himself to relax into parade rest. “What isn’t possible?” he asked, maintaining a neutral face even as the blood warmed in his veins in anticipation of a fight. The expression on Jaxim’s face hardly spoke of a happy surprise.

Jaxim swallowed hard. “They were eradicated thousands of years ago, if they even really existed! The only reason I even _recognize_ this frequency is from some elective on the conflation of history and legend over the course of –”

“Lieutenant, _what is it?”_ Tasera demanded.

Jaxim looked up, shock and fear blatantly displayed on their face. “This signal was sent by the Blade of Marmora,” they said, sounding stunned.

Tasera froze, staring at the screen. “You’re joking,” he said finally. “The Blade of Marmora is a myth, a fable told to _children_ to ensure they know that comes of rebellion!” he said. Everyone knew that the Blade of Marmora was only a tale – a group of misguided traitors who attempted to overthrow Zarkon, only to be brutally and soundly crushed beneath the glory and might and truth of the Empire. It was a cheesy legend, nothing more than that.

“I wish I were joking,” Jaxim said tersely. “But many historians believed that the Blade did exist once –”

“Quacks, all of them –”

“Let me finish!” Jaxim snapped. Almost instantly, they winced. “Sorry, Captain,” they said.

Tasera raised an eyebrow. Lucky that Jaxim wasn’t one of his soldiers, or he’d have to give them punishment duty for disrespecting a superior officer. “At ease, Lieutenant,” he said dryly. “Go ahead. Finish.”

Jaxim nodded. “One of the primary pieces of evidence that the Blade of Marmora once existed are the scraps of leftover communications attributed to their organization, similar in form to intra‑Empire communications, but different enough to suggest a schism of sorts between the senders and the empire.”

“Sir, if I may,” Petty Officer Faskre said cautiously. Bold, for an enlisted soldier to interrupt a conversation between two officers, but Tasera knew perfectly well that there were times when protocol was more of a hindrance than anyone else. He nodded for her to continue. “I believe I took a similar elective during training,” she said. “I’m not saying this signal necessarily originated from the Blade of Marmora, but there is strong evidence that they existed, and now that the Lieutenant has mentioned the possibility, it does match up with historical analysis of Blade of Marmora communications.”

Tasera cursed internally. “Let’s just… Let’s wait for the commander to arrive and give our orders. Don’t mention this… Blade of Marmora conspiracy theory unless he asks directly for your input, Lieutenant.” He didn’t bother addressing Petty Officer Faskre – few enlisted soldiers would have the gumption to address such a high-ranking officer without being addressed first, and the petty officer was not one of the few foolhardy ones who would take such a risk.

After several doboshes of awkward silence, the bridge doors on Commander Hazuur’s ship hissed open and the commander stalked towards the viewscreen, looking annoyed. Tasera snapped immediately to attention, crossing his right arm across his chest in salute. “Commander,” he said.

“Captain Tasera,” Commander Hazuur said curtly. “I trust this is important.”

Tasera swallowed hard and nodded. “Sir, my ship picked up a distress beacon from the third planet in this star system,” he said. “The signal resembles one of our own, but contains noticeable differences from a standard distress call and was sent out on a nonstandard frequency.”

Hazuur frowned, interest replacing annoyance. “Your system was determined to be devoid of advanced races, was it not?” he rumbled, peering over Jaxim’s shoulder to examine the signal readings. “Curious,” he said after a moment. “Lieutenant Jaxim, take a fighter and convene with Captain Tasera on his ship. The two of you will proceed to the planet to locate the source of the signal. Captain Tasera, use your judgement to deal with whatever you find at the source.”

“Understood,” Tasera said, inclining his head. Anticipation thrummed through him – clearly, the commander had found this situation to be worth his time, if he was willing to send his second along on the mission. “Vrepit sa.”

“Vrepit sa,” Hazuur and Jaxim said in tandem, saluting. Tasera nodded at Faskre, who tapped her screen to end the communication.

Tasera relaxed his stance and turned to Faskre. “Pull bio-readings from the third planet in the system,” he ordered.

Faskre nodded, her fingers already flying across her screen. “It’s a very biodiverse planet,” she said, pulling up a few charts of compiled data. Tasera grimaced – data collection and analysis was hardly his forte – he had enlisted soldiers to handle that sort of minutiae. Even condensed versions tended to give him a headache. “Only one of a vast collection of species is advanced enough to have any sort of space-faring technology, and it’s very underdeveloped – their tech isn’t strong enough to exit the solar system, even.”

Too primitive to have created the distress signal, as Tasera had thought. “What else?” he asked.

Faskre frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t have much else to say, sir,” she said. “It appears they have access to moderately advanced weaponry, enough to cause a problem to individuals on the ground, but certainly nothing that could challenge even our fighters, much less our battleships.” Her tail lashed with agitation. “Nothing else useful,” she said finally. “We can extrapolate from their weaponry that they may be mildly warlike and prone to internal conflict. From their distance from the civilized universe and lack of advanced systems, it’s unlikely that they have been contacted by other races.”

Tasera nodded. “So then who sent the signal?” he mused. “Don’t say the Blade of Marmora,” he added, holding up a hand as Faskre opened her mouth. Zarkon on the Throne, he wasn’t sure he had the patience for ramblings and conspiracy theories at the moment.

Rather than answer, Faskre turned back to her screen and pulled up the radar readings. “Lieutenant Jaxim is underway,” she said. “Estimated arrival in twelve vargas.”

Tasera sighed. “Very well,” he said, turning to his own screen to pull up internal communications. He tapped out a memo and sent it to Sergeant Major Sxai:

 

> _Squad VG-9 is to report to the war room in six vargas for briefing and mission planning._

Six vargas was enough time to get some sleep, or so he hoped. If there was a bright side to all of this, he thought wryly, the break from routine would help keep his soldiers on their toes.

* * *

A part of Tasera wondered what fantastical explanation the primitive inhabitants of the planet would come up with, to explain the twelve fighters that converged on the source of the distress signal. “Lieutenant Jaxim, status?” he asked.

“Locked onto target,” Jaxim replied. “Signal appears to be emanating from, uh, some sort of organically-based structure,” they said, distaste clear in their voice. Tasera shuddered – building structures out of organic matter was just so inelegant, at best. This building would eventually rot. Disgusting.

“Squad VG-9, dock outside the structure and await my orders,” Tasera commanded, angling his ship downwards and beginning a graceful descent to the ground by the tiny building.

He waited until the full squad of ten and Jaxim had all exited their ships before fixing them with hard eyes. “We don’t know what we’re walking into here,” he said abruptly. “Could be nothing, or it could be a rebel trap. Have your blasters ready, but don’t shoot unless I give the order.”

There was a round of “Yes, sir!” from the enlisted men. Jaxim frowned, their hand on their own blaster, but said nothing.

Tasera nodded and jerked a thumb at the tiny building. “Squad leader, break down the door.”

The door shattered easily, bits of organic matter splintering inward. Something inside the structure let out a startled cry, which Tasera ignored, following his soldiers as they fanned into the building, their blasters all trained on the source of the noise.

Tasera nearly stopped in his tracks as his eyes registered the creature before him. This… This couldn’t be possible. There was absolutely no way for some half-blood galra _kit_ to be standing before him on some primitive, backwater planet.

But here he was, meeting the kit’s unnerving eyes – white scleara and purple iris, not terribly uncommon amongst half-breeds. He was too short by far to be full-blood, and his tiny fangs also indicated his mixed blood. But the downy purple fur that covered his skin, the ears pressed flat against his white-haired head with alarm, and the claws extended in instinctual defense – that was enough to prove his ancestry. Somehow, one of their own must have ended up on this planet to produce a child with the locals – but _how?_

“Zarkon on the Throne,” Jaxim breathed, coming up behind Tasera and staring at the kit, their eyes wide.

Tasera took a deep, steadying breath. Of all the situations he had imagined, he hadn’t come anywhere near to expecting this one. He gestured for the others to lower their weapons and took a step forward, ignoring the instinct to drop to one knee and be on eye level with the kit. This situation was still an unknown, and it wouldn’t do to break protocol just because this kit reminded him of his own back home. “I am Captain Tasera of the Galra Empire,” he said formally, staring down at the kit, who met his eyes with only a hint of ill-concealed fear. “Was it you who sent the distress signal?”

The kit stared back at him for a moment, his eyes searching Tasera’s face. After a moment, he opened his mouth, saying something in an unfamiliar language. Tasera frowned – of course, the translators wouldn’t have the language of this planet. This whole situation would have been easier if the kit spoke the galran language, but it wasn’t unusual for half-bloods to speak only the language of their non-galra parent.

The kit held up one hand, the other reaching carefully into a pouch outside his clothing. Tasera tightened his grip on his blaster as the child pulled out a knife, but the kit merely extended it towards him, hilt first. He chattered something in that alien language, and Tasera frowned, taking the knife and examining it. Luxite – how did a half-blood kit come across a luxite blade? And that symbol… He felt he should know the meaning.

“What the – _what is this?”_ Only training and determination kept Tasera from jumping as Jaxim came up behind him and snatched the blade from his hands, their eyes narrowed as they examined the symbol on the hilt. “Captain, with all due respect, you can say what you want about conspiracy theories, but this is the symbol that the Blade of Marmora used to identify each other!”

The kit straightened some at that. “Blade of Marmora,” he said, his accent thick and muddy. He nodded and folded his arms across his chest, staring at them.

Tasera’s head spun as he stared from the knife to the kit, then back to the knife. “Even if they are real, surely they wouldn’t recruit so young,” he said finally. “It’s not possible.”

“Or they’re desperate.” Jaxim hefted the blade and took a step towards the kit. “I say we kill the little operative now, before any of his friends come for him.”

Something about Jaxim’s tone and body language made the kit’s eyes grow wide. He scrambled backwards, shouting in his alien language, eyes darting between Jaxim and the others in the room. Jaxim snarled, and Tasera knew he had to take action. Before the kit’s back could hit the wall, Tasera stepped forward and lifted the boy by the scruff of the neck, hoping the kit would respond to being scruffed the way a full-blood child would.

To Tasera’s relief, the kit went limp in his hands, glaring at him with those odd purple eyes. Tasera turned and stared at Jaxim, allowing just a hint of fury to show on his face. “If the kit is linked to the Blade of Marmora –” and Zarkon on the Throne, wasn’t _that_ one of the most ridiculous things he’d ever said “– then we will need to equip him with a translator and interrogate him.”

Jaxim glowered. “It’s obvious that he’s linked to them,” they snapped. “That was the only thing out of his mouth that wasn’t complete gibberish!”

Tasera sighed. The kit twitched feebly in his hand, clearly trying to regain motion in his limbs. The boy was a fighter, that much was certain – but a trained operative? Somehow, Tasera didn’t think so.

“We will interrogate the child back at the ship,” he said, fixing Jaxim with a hard stare. “Return to the fighters at once. We will convene at the interrogation chambers in two vargas.” That should be enough time to take communications readings from the planet and integrate them with their translators, as well as to fit the kit with a translator of his own.

Several of the squad members exchanged looks before heading back to their fighters. Jaxim glared at Tasera for a long moment before turning on their heel and stalking back to their ship. Tasera sighed and debated letting the kit down so he could cuff him, but determined that releasing the child would have to wait until they were both sealed in his fighter. The last thing he needed was for the kit to manage an escape in the few ticks he would be unsecured.

Feeble protestations made it through slack lips as Tasera hauled the weakly-twitching kit from the building to his fighter. The child went rigid with alarm as the hatch opened and Tasera hefted him inside, his limbs spasming weakly as he fought against the almost-paralytic endorphin release from being scruffed. Tasera maneuvered the kit so he was out of the way of any of the controls and sealed the hatch before releasing his hold.

No sooner had the kit regained control of his limbs than he launched himself towards the sealed hatch, one foot coming down hard and digging into Tasera’s thigh as he made a desperate, if futile, bid for freedom. Tasera sighed and pulled free the cuffs he’d brought with him in case of hostiles at the site of the signal. He grabbed the kit by the shoulder and pulled him down, snapping the first cuff around one wrist, which it shrank to fit. The boy’s eyes went wide, and he thrashed, trying desperately to bite as Tasera twisted him to get both hands behind his back.

“Stop this,” Tasera ordered, knowing that the kit wouldn’t be able to understand but hoping that his tone might have some effect.

The kit stilled as the second cuff clicked around his wrist and shrank to an appropriate size, firmly holding his hands behind his back. Every line of his body was tense as though poised to run, but he seemed to finally recognize the futility of his struggles. Tasera nodded and turned to his controls, watching the kit out of the corner of his eye, just in case. He set the fighter to autopilot with a course for the main ship and settled back to keep an eye on his young prisoner.

The kit drew his knees up to his chest and slumped forward, fixing watery eyes on the floor. Tasera couldn’t help the stab of pity he felt, seeing the boy – who couldn’t be any older than Tasera’s own daughter – look so defeated.

He truly hoped that this was all some misunderstanding that the kit wasn’t affiliated with the Blade of Marmora. The implications that a rebel group would recruit children so young was disturbing – almost as disturbing as the sort of death that would meet a traitor to the Galra Empire, no matter how young.

* * *

Updating the ship’s translators with the kit’s language took longer than anticipated – it seemed that this planet was linguistically diverse as well as biologically diverse. All told, the kit spent seven vargas in the brig before the communications officers announced that their translators were updated and functioning with the kit’s language. In that time, Tasera filed his report with Commander Hazuur. To his surprise, the commander did not seem interested in interrogating the kit directly or taking custody of him, proclaiming instead that he trusted Tasera to complete the job himself.

It was with a great deal of reluctance that Tasera sent three members of squad VG-9 to install the kit with a translator and bring him to the interrogation room. As the ship’s CO, he knew he couldn’t lower himself to perform that sort of work, but the protective part of him itched to make sure that the boy arrived unharmed, a task with which he didn’t entirely trust his soldiers.

It couldn’t be helped. Tasera sat beside Jaxim at one end of a long table, equipped to be used to restrain prisoners in cases where torture became necessary. From the sour look on Jaxim’s face, they were disappointed that Tasera had declared torture a last resort course of action. Something about their attitude sat wrong with Tasera, their eagerness to torture a kit aside – Jaxim was acting as though this kit had personally wronged them. Tasera felt that he was missing something.

Cacophony filled the room as soon as the doors slid open. “Let go!” the kit shouted, thrashing furiously against the hold of the two soldiers holding his arms. He struggled as they forced him into the interrogation chair and strapped him down at the wrists and elbows. The kit growled, wrenching at the restraints, his white hair falling into his eyes and sticking to his skin as sweat trickled down his face. Tasera would bet all the GAC he had that the child had spent the past seven vargas either actively resisting or coming up with plans to resist.

The kit wrenched feebly at his bonds again, directing a hate-filled stare at Tasera and Jaxim. “Let me _go!”_ he screamed.

Jaxim opened their mouth to speak, but Tasera cut them off with a warning look. “Don’t forget who’s leading this interrogation, Lieutenant,” he said coldly.

Jaxim wrinkled their nose and nodded sullenly. “Yes, Captain,” they said, not bothering to hide the disdain from their voice.

Tasera nodded and turned his attention to the kit, who had gone quiet and was staring at them, open-mouthed. “I… can understand you?” he said, the revelation seemingly quelling some of his desire to fight and rage his way to freedom.

“You have been installed with a translator,” Tasera confirmed, nodding.

The kit’s eyes widened. _“Installed?”_ he asked, his voice cracking. “What… Why would you… Why am I here?” he demanded finally.

Tasera schooled his features to remain impassive. “I am Captain Tasera of the Galra Empire,” he said, meeting the kit’s eyes. “My ship picked up a distress signal from a traitorous group of rebels, thought to be extinct for thousands of years. Imagine my surprise, to arrive at the source of the signal and find you, a half-blood kit.” The boy flinched, seemingly more surprised than anything. “You are here to answer my questions about the so-called Blade of Marmora.”

The kit took a deep breath. “I don’t know what that is,” he said, meeting Tasera’s eyes directly. His expression was strangely earnest. “Look, all I know is I’m not completely human, my mom was an alien, and she left that signaler with my dad for emergencies. Then dad didn’t come home at all this month, and I ran out of food, and I couldn’t exactly go ask a human for help, so I, I activated it! That’s all I know!”

Jaxim tensed beside Tasera, a low growl escaping their throat. The kit flinched, and Tasera shot the lieutenant a glare. He schooled his features again before turning back to the boy. “Human is the name of the race that makes up your other half? The dominant race on your planet?” he asked.

The kit nodded. “Yeah,” he said.

Good to know, in case they ever advanced far enough to become a problem. Tasera filed the tidbit of knowledge away for later. “And why could you not ask someone for help?” he asked.

The kit snorted. “Well, I don’t exactly _look_ human,” he said dryly. “Who knows what they’d do when they saw me? My –” He broke off and stared down at the table. “My dad had some theories. They were – they were bad.”

Jaxim snorted, but Tasera chose to ignore them this time. “What’s your name, kit?” he asked.

The kit hesitated, drawing his shoulders in tightly and continuing to stare at the table.

“Captain,” Jaxim said, venom seeping into their voice, “it seems to me that the kit is unwilling to give up his identity. Which could _very_ easily indicate that, oh, he’s an operative of the Blades and should have his _secrets tortured out of him!”_

The kit’s head snapped up and he jerked in his chair, eyes blown with sudden panic. “No!” he shouted. “No, please, my name’s Keith Kogane, I swear! I’m not, I’m not some sort of operative! I promise!”

Tasera snarled at Jaxim. “Advisement noted and denied, _Lieutenant,”_ he snapped. “There’s no need for that yet.” He turned to face the trembling kit. “Keith Kogane, was it?”

“Y-yeah,” Keith Kogane said, shaking like a sentry that had touched an errant current. “I’m Keith, I’m twelve years old, I live in the desert with my dad – when he can get out there – and I, I, I swear, I don’t know anything about this, this Blade of Marmora you’re –” He cut off, sounding surprised. “That… That translated. When I said it… Those are the code words I was told…” He stared up at Tasera with wide eyes. “Please, I don’t know what it means, I promise!”

“He’s lying,” Jaxim grumbled.

“I’m not!” Keith shouted desperately.

“Liar!” Jaxim shouted, slamming their hands on the table and rising to their feet, towering above the quaking prisoner.

_“Lieutenant!”_ Tasera roared, rising to his own feet. “Sit down and stop terrorizing the child, or I will have you ejected from this interrogation and sent back to your ship!”

Jaxim’s lips drew back to reveal their fangs. “You’re trusting this _mongrel,_ in spite of all the evidence we have on our side!”

Tasera let his own lips draw back, the blood in his veins warming, the heat of anger seeping through him. “Our evidence is flimsy at best,” he snarled, “and you disgrace the Empire by unleashing your temper and ignoring a superior officer. Either sit down, or _leave.”_

Jaxim’s eyes widened, and they lowered their gaze. “Of course,” they said, dropping back into their seat. “My apologies, Captain.”

Tasera stared his fellow officer down for a long moment before slowly settling back into his seat. He straightened up and faced Keith, who did not seem reassured in the slightest by Tasera’s shutdown of Jaxim. Water streamed from his eyes – a distress sign in several known races across the universe. The boy flinched when Tasera leaned forward, shrinking back in his chair as best he could.

Tasera sighed. He hated to do this, but he couldn’t allow himself to appear soft in front of a prisoner. “So everything is clear,” he said, resting his arms on the table, “if your answers fail to convince me, torture is still an option. So far, I don’t entirely believe you are lying, but I don’t believe you are entirely truthful, either.” It was a lie – he had no doubt that the kit before him was too terrified to lie, even if he had secrets – but there was still a possibility that the boy was simply a highly-skilled actor. “I have more questions for you.”

A soft keening noise escaped the boy’s throat, even as he nodded in agreement.

Tasera settled back in his chair, ruthlessly tamping down on the instinct to comfort the child. He had to finish this interrogation – hopefully before Jaxim exploded in apoplectic rage. “So. You’re a half-human child, and you lived with your father.”

A tiny nod. “But your father is gone now?” Tasera asked. He waited until Keith nodded again before continuing. “And it’s not safe for you to go to another human for help and proper nurturing.”

An almost incredulous expression crossed Keith’s face, but he nodded again. Tasera sighed and resisted the urge to rub away the headache he could already feel forming. “Then I cannot allow you to return to your planet, no matter what answers you give me.”

Keith looked up at that, alarmed. “What?” he demanded. “No, no, I – I’d be _fine_ on earth, really, I’d find a way to make it. You can let me go, I promise.”

Tasera shook his head. “Let me make this clear, kit. Under no circumstances will you return to your planet. Keep that in mind, when answering my questions – if you lie, we will have a lifetime to uncover your deceit, and I assume you’re intelligent enough to figure out the punishment for traitors who lie.”

Keith’s gaze darted to Jaxim, and his pale purple skin went nearly grey under his fur. “I understand,” he choked out.

Satisfied, if not a bit remorseful, Tasera crossed one leg over the other and leaned back, every bit the image of nonchalance. “Where did you get the blade you carried?” he asked.

Keith swallowed hard. “My mother left it for me, before leaving Earth,” he said quietly. “That was years ago.”

The boy’s mother was probably a member of the Blade of Marmora. Zarkon on the Throne, Tasera was never going to be able to wrap his head around the idea that the Blade of Marmora was _real._ “Your mother. What do you know of her?”

Keith frowned, his brow furrowing lightly. “Not much,” he said after a short pause. “She looked a bit like you guys. A lot taller than my dad. She didn’t know much about Earth, but since we stayed in the house, that was fine. Sometimes she’d talk into her communicator in that language you guys were – are – speaking, but the only thing she ever taught me to say was Blade of Marmora.”

Tasera nodded. Definitely a member, then. The whole thing was surreal. “Why did she teach you those words?”

Keith grimaced and shrunk in on himself. “I think,” he began, his voice small. “I think if something ever happened to Dad, they were supposed to come get me. They were supposed to bring me to her.”

Tasera’s eyes widened, and he activated his wrist comm. “Get me Lieutenant Chass,” he ordered.

The vaguely reptilian face of Tasera’s second filled the screen in less than a tick. “Sir?” Lieutenant Chass asked, frowning. “I was under the impression that you were in a classified interrogation?”

Tasera fought back a groan. Chass was a good second, but not always quick on the uptake. “Yes, and the interrogation is yielding information,” he said tightly. “I want two squads of sentries stationed out at the origin of the distress signal,” he ordered. “Program them to capture any…” he fought back a groan and closed his eyes. This was so ridiculous. “Program them to watch for and capture any members of the Blade of Marmora that visit the site, and alert the nearest ship in the case of a successful capture.”

Chass, to his credit, managed to keep his face perfectly neutral. “The Blade of Marmora, sir?” he asked, his voice perfectly bland.

“I am aware of how ridiculous I sound,” Tasera grumbled. “I will debrief you later. For now, those are your orders.”

“Of course,” Chass said, still perfectly neutral. He brought his arm to his chest in salute. “Vrepit sa.”

“Vrepit sa,” Tasera echoed, ending the communication.

Wary eyes trained on Tasera’s face as he turned to face Keith again. “So. In distress, you were supposed to contact the Blade of Marmora,” Tasera said without preamble.

“I… I guess,” Keith whispered. “Please… please, I didn’t know…”

Tasera held up one hand, and the boy’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click. “You were supposed to contact the Blade of Marmora,” he repeated. “You say you didn’t know anything about them – I can believe that, since you’re just a kit,” he said. “Which brings us to the question of the information your father can provide. I’m sure your mother would have confided in her… partner… at some point.”

Keith shook his head. “Nothing, he didn’t know anything,” he said quietly. “He only knew what I know. He and my mom didn’t talk about that sort of thing, I think. He always said she wouldn’t tell him why she left, so that means he doesn’t know anything, right?” Desperation tinged the boy’s words. No doubt he expected that Tasera would send someone after his father – which, admittedly, wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility.

Actually, it was a good idea – and maybe taking that sort of action would cool Jaxim’s ire. “When we are finished here, you will be taken to medical to have your DNA recorded and the non-galra genes analyzed,” he said calmly. “We _will_ use those genes to track down your father for interrogation. The more you tell us, the less your father will suffer.”

A loud, pained cry erupted from the kit, and more water streamed down his face. “Please, no,” he sobbed, shaking his head. “He’s probably dead already anyways, but even if – please, please leave him _alone!”_

“Why would you think he’s dead?” Tasera asked, once again ruthlessly shoving aside the desire to soothe the boy.

Keith nearly convulsed in his bonds as he sobbed, his words coming out messy and almost too garbled for the translator to interpret. “H-he always, always came home, e-every, every weekend and w‑when he didn’t have, have to work, and this time it was a _month_ and I, I haven’t eaten in th‑three days and he _never_ would have left me that long, he _wouldn’t!”_ the boy wailed.

Some of the words didn’t translate properly, but Tasera got the gist. Keith’s father had disappeared without a trace, leaving his son to starve. He swallowed back revulsion at the thought. He hoped that the man _was_ dead. If he wasn’t – abandoning his own kit to starve? Tasera would have him tortured to death even _after_ all necessary information had been procured.

Tasera glanced over at Jaxim, and was surprised to see that the hatred had completely vanished from the other officer’s face, replaced with quiet reflection. “Lieutenant?” he asked quietly, his voice nearly drowned out by the kit’s miserable sobbing.

“His responses do seem unscripted,” Jaxim admitted, refusing to meet Tasera’s eyes. They sighed. “It’s a pity. Things would be easier had he been a traitor.”

Tasera scowled. “The brutal evisceration of a child is easy?” he asked sharply.

Jaxim shrugged. “Compared to life as a half-breed? Certainly,” they said. “He’ll barely live better than a slave, assuming we have somewhere to place him other than the arena.”

Tasera stared at Jaxim, his blood burning with the thought. Jaxim was right – as a half-breed with no family to care for him, the kit wouldn’t have much of a chance to make anything of himself in life. Unless…

There was one option. It was harsh, maybe even cruel – the ultimate disgrace for a full-blood galra. But for a half-blood, maybe it could be a chance at a decent life.

“I’m surprised that you care,” Tasera said, even as Keith’s sobs began to peter out and he slumped forward, sagging in his bonds. “You did call him a mongrel and accuse him of being a traitor.”

Jaxim shrugged. “He is a mongrel,” they said easily. “And at the time, all evidence suggested that he was a traitor. I’ve known a mongrel or two in my time – what’s it to you?” There was an edge to their voice that dared Tasera to laugh at the revelation, to submit a report that Jaxim had admitted to associating with individuals with impure blood.

Tasera didn’t find it funny. “There is one sub-branch of the military that accepts half-breeds,” he said quietly, choosing to ignore the potentially career-threatening information that Jaxim had given him. “I understand why you wouldn’t think of it,” he added as Jaxim sat up, regarding him sharply. “To you and I, it would be the ultimate disgrace, a brand on our reputations to last a lifetime.”

Jaxim’s eyes widened. “You mean to send him to train under Prince Lotor,” they accused, disbelief etched across their every feature.

Tasera nodded, acutely aware that their prisoner had cried himself out and was now slumped in his bonds across from them, apparently barely cognizant of their conversation. “To be assigned under Prince Lotor is a disgrace for a full-blooded galra,” he admitted, “but as you pointed out, he is a mongrel. The regular military won’t accept him, nor will most civilian jobs. Between the mines, the arena, and service under our exiled Prince, what do you think is the best option?”

Jaxim sighed. “I suppose you’re right,” they admitted. “Working for the exiled brat is better than being driven to an early grave.”

“Then it’s settled.” Tasera turned back to Keith, who raised his water-stained face dully in response. “We have determined that you have been truthful, and have no pertinent information on the Blade of Marmora,” he decreed. The kit’s eyes were tinged red, he noticed with some worry. He’d never seen that happen before, not on a being with white sclera. He’d have to ensure that medical took note of it. “You will be assigned to the junior pre-boot-camp at the edges of the empire. From there, you will be trained to be a proper soldier, a conqueror of worlds, and a true member of the Galra Empire, serving under Prince Lotor.”

Keith let out a broken little huff, his eyes dropping down, gazing at his bound arms. “I don’t guess I get a say in all this?” he asked, his voice still somewhat choked.

Tasera shook his head and rose, gesturing for Jaxim to join him. “You don’t,” he said, “so I’d suggest you make the best of it.”

Keith slumped in his bonds. Tasera bit back a sigh and circled around the table to stand beside the boy. “If you cooperate, I won’t restrain you,” he said, releasing the first of the four cuffs.

Keith nodded. “Sure,” he said, sounding distant. “Got it. It’s not like I have anywhere to go, right?”

He was correct about that. Tasera released the other three cuffs and helped the boy to his feet. “I’ll have some of my men take you to medical and processing,” he said, straightening his shoulders and staring down at the kit. “Don’t make trouble for them.”

Keith stiffened, but he nodded anyways. “Okay,” he said, his voice small.

A few doboshes later, the doors slid open to reveal another three members of squad VG-9. Keith swallowed hard but allowed them to flank him, not bothering to cast a glance back. The doors sealed behind him, and Tasera finally allowed himself to relax, slumping against the table and covering his mouth with one hand to keep from crying out.

“You were right not to torture him.” Tasera jumped at Jaxim’s words in his ear, and turned to face the Lieutenant. “He’ll be all right, Captain,” Jaxim added, hanging back just out of range, their ears flicking warily as if anticipating conflict.

Tasera sighed, his shoulders sagging. He let his neutral expression drop, finally allowed his ears to fold against his head. “Will he?” he asked, staring blankly at the sealed door. He’d never see the kit again, he knew – the boy would be processed and sent to junior pre-boot camp at the Empire’s outskirts on the other side of the universe, where Prince Lotor operated.

“He will be,” Jaxim said firmly. They hesitated for a moment. “As I said, I’ve known a few mongrels,” they reminded him warily. “Lotor’s army has a good number of them. They’ll help him make it through.”

Tired, Tasera still managed a chuckle. “Honestly, I’m just surprised that _you,_ of all people, know any half-breeds well enough to keep in contact,” he said, offering a tired smile.

Jaxim didn’t return his laugh. “You say this because I am conventional and follow the law in both letter and spirit,” they said, matter-of-fact. “This is true. But my – I have a family member who was more… free-spirited. My niece and nephews are mongrels.” They eyed Tasera warily. “Do understand, they are officially disowned, of course, along with my family member.”

Tasera raised his hands. “Your secret is safe with me,” he promised. “But if your disowned family ever has word of Keith in his training, keep me informed, won’t you?”

Jaxim inclined their head. “Of course, sir,” they said. “Now, unless you have further need for me, I must rejoin the commander aboard his ship.”

Tasera nodded and reached out to clasp Jaxim by the shoulder. “Of course,” he said, offering perhaps the first genuine smile he’d allowed himself in several vargas. “I will see you at the next debriefing in… is it two quintants, or one, now?” he asked.

Jaxim groaned, but smiled as they drew back. “Vrepit sa,” they said, clasping their fist to their chest in salute.

“Vrepit sa.”

Tasera waited until the notice that Jaxim had left the ship came through, then made his way to his personal quarters. Once there, he pulled up his communications program at his personal terminal. “Contact my family,” he ordered, activating the device.

After only a few ticks, the faces of his wife and daughter filled the screen, safe at home with the familiar background of the officer family-quarters around them. Tasera relaxed, smiling. “Thrassa,” he said, his smile widening. “Vrei. It’s so good to see you too.”

His quarters filled with his daughter’s comforting chatter and his wife’s soothing presence, Tasera could almost forget about the plight of Keith Kogane.

 


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith enlists in the military and begins to make a name for himself.

_~Five deca-phoebs later~_

Assignments were up. It was all that anyone could be bothered to talk about. As of today, they were Privates, not cadets. Sure, anyone assigned under Prince Lotor was certain to be slated for a career of scut duty, but even amongst the failures, there was some degree of competition. Cadet – no, Private – Keith groaned as he dragged himself out of bed. The majority of his bunkmates chattered excitedly around him, comparing scores and instructor favoritism and overall chances of being assigned to a good command – some, the lucky ones, even had the potential to be brought back into the main fleet. Keith had no illusions that he’d get a good assignment. He’d fought for his place in the Army for _deca-phoebs,_ determined to set himself apart from the others and prove his worth despite his background, but as time marched on, it had become clear that he would never escape his background, not when his instructors and peers harped on it at every chance. He just had to accept it. He was the company mongrel, and his place would never be better than cannon-fodder.

Even if he _did_ outscore his peers in every test, which had been par for the course the last several years.

Keith was still wiping sleep from his eyes as he joined the throng of newly-minted privates at the posted signage outlining their new assignments. Each new private received their chain of command upon typing in their name, and only one percent of recruits were assigned to real commands across the galaxy. Ninety-nine percent of recruits from this academy would remain under Prince Lotor, and Keith was fully aware that he would be one of them. He took his place at the screen and painstakingly typed in his name in Galran, his cheeks flushing as a few his fellow former-cadets booed and hurried him along. Screw them – he’d only learned to read Galran in the past four or five deca-phoebs. They could deal with him being slow about it.

FIELD MARTIAL:

PRINCE LOTOR

GENERAL:

NARTI

COMMANDER:

CASTRACKS

MAJOR:

SANKSI

LIEUTENANT:

SKRA

SERGEANT MAJOR:

KLASAI

STAFF SERGEANT:

HASHA

Keith’s cheeks burned as he stared at the list of his chain-of-command. Something in his throat tightened as he forced himself to look over the rest of the list, trying and failing to come to terms with his new orders. Because of everyone he could be assigned to, overall, progress thrived or died depending on the general in charge, even under Lotor.

And he had been assigned to _Narti._ Narti, or as the cadets tended to joke, “where careers go to die.” Narti, who was blind and mute and completely unresponsive to her people. She wouldn’t recognize a soldier deserving of a promotion if they tripped and fell flat in front of her face – because she wouldn’t see them, and if the rumors were true, she wouldn’t hear them either.

She was Lotor’s puppet general, a reject kept on out of pity because their damn Field Martial was soft, and now Keith was condemned to take her orders. Keith gritted his teeth and straightened, staring directly ahead and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Whatever. So he’d been shoved under Narti’s command – big deal. He’d find a way to show them. Watch them all make Colonel or higher while he languished as a Private, as people tended to do under Narti’s command – he’d still surpass them in everything but rank. He would.

Being assigned to Narti wasn’t a death sentence for his career. He wouldn’t let it be.

* * *

The pod was tiny enough that every minute jostle sent Keith listing into Private Orsco’s self‑proclaimed personal bubble, earning him a steady stream of glares. “You sure about this?” Keith asked as they docked, unnerved by the green-glowing atmosphere around them. After seven years – no, seven deca-phoebs – with the Galra, including two deca-phoebs with his team under Staff Sergeant Hasha, things that glowed a color other than purple set off warning signs on sight. Usually, it meant that they were walking into enemy territory.

Staff Sergeant Hasha laughed and shook her head. “I wouldn’t lead you in blind,” she said easily. “Lieutenant Skra and Major Sanksi wouldn’t call for a face-to-face on an unsecured world. This planet is completely pacified, and has been for hundreds of deca-phoebs. We’re not expecting a fight.”

“Doesn’t mean we won’t get one,” Private Orsco muttered, glaring ahead.

Keith hated to agree with Orsco – unlike the rest of the squad, Orsco had never warmed up to having a half-breed in the ranks – but his fellow private had a point. For the past two deca‑phoebs, they had done little more than put down rebellions in this sector of the galaxy – expecting a fight had kept them alive.

The pod listed again, and Keith fought to keep from knocking into Orsco. Orsco growled low in his throat and shoved Keith away, causing Keith to stumble to the side, nearly knocking into Hasha. Keith clenched his teeth even as the blood warmed in his veins and shot Orsco a challenging glare. If Orsco pushed him _one_ more time, he was going to snap.

Maybe he should pre-emptively challenge Orsco to duel-sparring while the officers chatted. Sure, their last match had ended with them both in the med-bay, due to both their wounds and the subsequent punishment doled out when the Sergeant Major caught them, but it would be worth it to pound Orsco into the ground again.

Keith managed to keep his footing as the pod docked, shuddering to a halt at the edge of the base’s docking center. He straightened his pack on his back, squared his shoulders alongside the rest of his squad, and fell into his place at the back of the squad as they exited, Hasha flanked by two columns of three each. They marched, shouldering through the unusually high gravity of the planet, across the docking center to the doors of the base, where Lieutenant Skra stood waiting, flanked by several members of his platoon.

“Lieutenant Skra,” Hasha greeted, clasping her arm to her chest in salute.

“Staff Sergeant Hasha,” the lieutenant said, saluting in return. Idly, Keith wondered if the lieutenant was of mixed heritage himself – blue, slit irises weren’t alone proof of mixed heritage, but it was a decent indication that somewhere along the line, the man had a non-galra ancestor. “Thank you for joining the Major and myself. My men will show your soldiers to the barracks, for the time being. Please be aware that this base has more restricted sections than unrestricted, so I would advise that your soldiers remain in the barracks or the mess at all times.”

“Understood,” Hasha said. She dropped the salute and turned to face her squad. “Dismissed, Privates!”

After years of boot camp and field experience, it was second nature for Keith to clap his fist against his chest with the others. “Vrepit sa,” he intoned, one voice amongst the whole squad.

As soon as the doors to the main facility closed behind Skra and Hasha, Keith turned to face Orsco. “Shove me again, and I’ll break your face,” he hissed lowly, his ears turning back against his head.

“Invade my space again, and I’ll show you what happens to inferior breeds, _mongrel,”_ Orsco hissed in response.

“Jeez, this again?” one of the other privates, Gis, piped up, rolling their eyes. “You’re making us look bad in front of the Lieutenant’s men.”

Sure enough, Keith could practically feel their stares. Orsco took a step back, his hands raised mockingly, and Keith tried to force himself to relax, to cool his blood.

“Right,” said one of Skra’s men – a corporal, judging by his insignia. Keith could grudgingly respect that – getting promoted even as far as corporal was _hard,_ when your general was Narti. “The barracks are this way,” he added, motioning for the squad to follow.

Gis fell in line with Keith as they followed the corporal around the outside of the building to the barracks outpost. “You know, after all these years, you’d think you’d have figured out that he _likes_ getting to you,” they said quietly, nearly a whisper.

“I know,” Keith replied tersely. He’d figured that out in the first few movements at junior pre‑boot camp, the first time a group of his peers had surrounded him, taunting him with jeers of “mongrel” until he’d snapped, then beating him into the ground.

“And you know that it affects unit cohesion when you fight,” Gis added.

Keith growled low in his throat, clenching his fists and digging his fingers into his palms, pressing hard enough to keep his claws from extending. “So go talk to him about how he treats me,” he hissed, glaring straight ahead. “I’ve refused to take his shit lying down for the past two deca-phoebs, and it’s never affected our ability to fight before.” He glanced over at Gis. “Besides, we’re not even here to fight,” he said.

Gis sighed and rolled their eyes. “Why _are_ we here, anyways?” they complained.

Keith shrugged. “Sarge didn’t say,” he said. From what little she’d let slip, he got the feeling that even Hasha didn’t know why they’d been called on-world.

The corporal cleared his throat and halted the squad outside one of the barracks doors. “This door leads to the guest barracks, where you’ll be staying,” he said, gesturing. “The door on the far left wall leads to the hall that’ll take you to the mess. The mess runs on standard time, not planet time, and closes at 1800 vargas.”

Keith filed into the barracks with the others, selecting a bunk at the far end of the room and dumping his blaster and pack on the mattress, somewhat relieved to be away from the green glow of the planet, surrounded again by familiar purple. He stripped off his armor and sighed as a waft of cool air seeped through his flightsuit – armor was always a pain on planets with unusually high gravity. He glanced around the barracks, satisfied to note that the rest of his squad had selected bunks far away from his. He had room to train, then. Keith allowed himself a tiny grin as he reached for the sword he kept strapped to his side. He settled into a familiar stance as he drew the sword, taking a moment to center his balance and feel the weight of the weapon in his hand.

It had been on a whim that he’d chosen to study swordplay and martial arts back at boot camp. His instructors had suggested – some more pointedly than others – that his efforts might be better spent selecting courses on the history of the Galra Empire, or even in remedial language and writing courses. He certainly didn’t need additional coaching in use of his blaster or in flight – even the most cantankerous of his instructors had admitted that – but having spent approximately the first twelve deca-phoebs of his life on a backwater alien planet, his knowledge of language and culture hadn’t been even close to the level of his peers. Up until elective selection, he had been fully prepared to study history and learn more about his galra heritage.

Taking an elective in swordsmanship, rather than the history class, had been the best spur‑of-the-moment decision of his life. Keith exhaled, allowing his mind to clear as he began to move, selecting a pattern of motions designed for a fight in limited space. He would have preferred to spar against a partner, of course, but the only member of his squad with sword training was Orsco, and Keith would prefer to drink dish-water from the mess than ask him to spar. Outside of duel-sparring, of course. There would always be exceptions for duel-sparring.

He stepped and twisted, parried and thrust against an imaginary component, checking his sword whenever he danced too close to the barracks wall, interspersing small hops and half-steps as he mapped out the most efficient way to maneuver in such close quarters. The gravity levels had him slightly off-kilter, but that was a good thing – he’d take any chance he had to practice in high gravity. It might come in handy, someday.

By the time he was ready to call training quits, his fur was plastered to his skin, courtesy of human sweat glands. Keith grimaced and reached into his back for a packet of water and one of the towels he carried with him for training sessions like these.

He had only barely managed to make his hair and fur presentable when the door to the barracks hissed open. Hasha stood in the doorway, radiating fury. “Private Keith!” she barked. “With me, now!”

Keith’s stomach dropped at her tone, and he barely resisted the urge to flatten his ears submissively. He rose, reaching for his armor.

“Leave it!” Hasha snapped. Keith startled slightly – not once in two deca-phoebs had he seen his sergeant so worked up. He half-ran to the door, falling into step behind the sergeant as she strode quickly towards the main building.

Ordinarily, Keith would ask what had her so riled up. Hasha wasn’t like many sergeants – she knew all her soldiers by name on sight, she was more likely to dispense extra work for punishment than order a flogging, and she was willing to take input even from lower-ranked soldiers. Yet now that he was on the directed end of her anger, he didn’t feel comfortable questioning her.

Whatever had her so angry, he guessed he was about to find out. Keith swallowed hard as Hasha led him into the main complex. Part of him wanted to ask if he was even allowed here – the lieutenant had been quite clear about restricted areas, after all – but then again, if he wasn’t allowed in this building, surely she wouldn’t have brought him here.

Hasha stopped outside a door at the end of the hallway and pressed her hand to the panel. “Go in,” she ordered as the doors opened. “I’ll wait for you out here,” she added, leveling a hard look at Keith.

Keith gulped and stepped cautiously through the doors, which almost immediately hissed shut behind him. His eyes caught on the two figures already seated at a conference table, and his heart leapt into his throat. Instinctively, he snapped a salute, staring wide-eyed at Lieutenant Skra and Major Sanksi. “Sirs!” he said, his voice cracking embarrassingly.

Lieutenant Skra and Major Sanksi exchanged amused glances. “At ease, Private,” the major said, quirking a single brow. He gestured towards the chair on the other side of the table. “Sit. I’ll assume that Staff Sergeant Hasha didn’t let you know why we’re meeting today?”

Keith swallowed down trepidation and carefully lowered himself into a chair. “She didn’t,” he said warily, his heart pounding. Seated at one end of the table, across from two officers who had the capability to make his life a living hell, he suddenly felt twelve years old again, bound in a chair across from two hostile aliens discussing torture.

Lieutenant Skra snorted. “She did seem pretty angry,” he muttered.

“If I stood to lose one of my best men, I’d be angry too,” the major replied.

Keith’s heart rate kicked up a notch at that. “Sir?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Major Sanksi offered a wry smile. “Don’t worry, Private, it’s a good thing,” he said, his voice dry. “As you know, your sergeant submits updates every phoeb regarding changes and improvements to members of their squad. Most of them don’t go past the file-pushers we keep around to do the busy-work while we take charge of expanding and maintaining the Empire.” He waited until Keith nodded before continuing. “Occasionally, an enlisted soldier’s name will appear often enough with exceptional reports that the file-pushers see fit to pass them onto us,” he continued. “Needless to say, Private Keith, Lieutenant Skra and myself have been keeping an eye on you for the better part of the past deca-phoeb.”

Keith stilled, his instinct to launch himself from the chair and flee quelling slightly. “Sir?” he asked, uncertain.

“You have a certain talent,” Lieutenant Skra said. “We pulled your records from boot camp. Top of your class in every subject – even if it took you some time to catch up in terms of… cultural matters,” he said delicately.

“And that talent continued when you began your detail under Staff Sergeant Hasha,” Major Sanksi said. “You’ve been reported to excel in both combat and flight, and your ability to put down rebellion with minimal casualties has been a point in nearly every report. Your sergeant has informed us that you show the capability for nuanced strategic planning and tactical improvisation, without exhibiting the sort of reckless streak that causes you to defy orders.”

Privately, Keith thought that may be because he tended to stick to the letter of his orders, rather than the spirit. Rather than saying so, he inclined his head. “Thank you, sir?”

Sanksi’s smile widened. “We don’t say this to be thanked,” he said. “We say this because we, as two of your commanding officers, would like to present you with an opportunity for lateral movement.”

Lateral movement? Keith frowned, narrowing his eyes. “What exactly does that mean?” he asked warily.

“We believe that your talents could be better put to use as an officer, rather than an enlisted soldier,” Skra said bluntly. “While it’s not common, there are channels to transfer an individual’s career path from the enlisted track to the officer track. Major Sanksi and myself would like to prepare a case to present to General Narti, requesting that you receive officer training and be promoted to the rank of Lieutenant.”

Keith’s heart stuttered to a halt in his chest as he gaped at the two officers. “Me?” he said finally, incredulous. It didn’t make sense. “Are you sure you got the right file?”

Sanksi and Skra exchanged another amused look. “I’m fairly certain you are the only “Keith” in the entire Galra Empire,” Sanksi pointed out. “You’re certainly the only one under my command.”

Keith shook his head, his mind whirling. “Am I even allowed to be an officer? I’m only half galra,” he blurted out before he could think to stop himself.

Skra shrugged. “As is General Narti,” he pointed out. “In the main fleet, your concerns would have merit – if they even allowed you to join in the first place, which they would not. We are not the main fleet. Under Prince Lotor’s command, even you half-breeds have the opportunity to advance.” He shrugged. “And despite the sort of treatment you may have experienced with your enlisted fellows, we officers hardly have room for discrimination. We’re here to expand an empire, not engage in petty bigotry.” He met Keith’s eyes, and Keith couldn’t look away. “We believe that you could be instrumental in helping us expand that empire, Keith. You’re wasted, languishing as a Private.”

Keith swallowed hard. _General Narti, where careers go to die._ He could be an exception to the rule. He could show _everyone_ just how badly they had misjudged him, have the last laugh against everyone who had made boot camp and the first year with his squad a living hell.

But more than that – he could _make_ something of himself. As an officer, he’d have the opportunity to strategize and lead, to seize control of the means of squashing rebellions and bringing in new planets. How many times had he been forced to find a workaround to bring a rebellion to heel without destroying half the planet’s population? If he was the one making the plans, he could include contingencies for dealing with hard-headed rebels without destroying the lives of innocent civilians. He could do some real _good_ in the universe. “I…” he began, his mouth dry. “What do I need to do?”

The smiles that Skra and Sanksi offered were nearly identical, despite the contrast between Skra’s reptilian features and Sanksi’s mammalian countenance. Skra reached into his pocket and pulled out a small datapad, loaded already to a set of forms. “Read and sign at the end,” he said. “You will remain on base until we can secure a meeting with General Narti. What happens after that depends on her verdict.”

He wondered how Narti would even pass the verdict. Keith reached for the datapad, then hesitated. “What about my squad?” he asked. “They’ll be a man down without me.”

If possible, Sanksi’s grin widened. “I told you he had the right mindset,” he said gleefully to Skra.

“And I never disagreed,” Skra said, before turning his attention back to Keith. “Your squad will be authorized two movements of leave,” he said. “After that, they will be assigned relatively easy missions. If General Narti agrees to promote you to Lieutenant, we have our eye on a cadet that we can fast-track to take your place in your squad, albeit as the most junior Private, instead of at a truly equal rank.” He chuckled. “Of course, we’ll probably end up poaching her too - what phrasing that was, from your sergeant!”

Keith forced a weak smile, certain that he was supposed to find that funny. He gripped the datapad and stared at the form he had to sign, struggling to take in the galran characters. He hadn’t seen English in _deca-phoebs_ but he could probably read it faster than galran, he thought morosely as he squinted and struggled through the harsh, jagged lines of the script before him. Learning to read English as a three-year-old and being left alone with nothing but books for days on end, he had once been a prolific reader; now, he was embarrassed to note that it took him nearly ten doboshes to get through the first page.

Finally, he made his way through the form. It really just contained the information they’d verbally given him, albeit in written form, full of technical jargon. His face flushed with embarrassment, Keith signed the forms and slid the datapad back to Skra, staring down at the table.

To his relief, Skra didn’t say a word about how long it had taken Keith to parse the form. “Excellent!” he said, beaming. “Staff Sergeant Hasha may gripe about this,” he said, “but your agreement to come on as an officer can only strengthen the Galra Empire in the end!”

The officers stood, and Keith recognized it for the dismissal it was. He rose, pressing his fist to his chest in salute. “Vrepit sa.”

To his surprise, the officers saluted back. “Vrepit sa,” they said in tandem.

Keith turned to the door, which hissed open as soon as he laid his hand on the exit panel. Hasha stood outside the door, her eyes wide and searching. After less than a tick, she slumped in defeat. “You agreed, then,” she said as Keith exited the room.

Keith dropped his gaze, staring at his boots. “I did,” he admitted, unwilling to look up and meet her disapproval.

Hasha sighed. “Of course you did,” she said flatly. “Figures. Every time I get a competent soldier, the officers poach them for command positions.”

Keith frowned, glancing up at his superior. “The rest of the squad is perfectly competent,” he said warily.

Hasha shrugged. “Sure, as far as the recruits from your boot camp go,” she said, gesturing for Keith to follow her. “It doesn’t mean I take well to building up a Private to follow in my footsteps, only to have him snatched out from under me.” She sighed, pressing her hand to the panel at the outer door, leading him into the desert air of the outside. “It happens. I build up a strong candidate to become a real sergeant, only for the officers to poach them and tell me to be grateful.”

Keith breathed out a laugh. “You were really betting on me to become a sergeant?” he asked disbelievingly.

Hasha huffed and glanced back at him. “Why do you think I never transferred Orsco out of the squad?” she asked. “He was causing serious unity issues, and you were _handling_ them. It was proof of your mettle. You have the gumption it takes to be a sergeant, leading the scut-work on the ground. Not a lot of people can manage it.” She shook her head. “I should’ve downplayed you more, but I wanted you to get fast-tracked on the enlisted route, not snatched up by the officers.”

Something like a smile tugged at Keith’s lips. “I didn’t realize you thought so highly of me,” he said as they approached the barracks.

Hasha actually turned around to meet his eyes, staring down at him, her face serious. “Kid, if ten percent of recruits were like you, the empire would hold the entire universe without breaking a sweat, instead of fighting to expand and keep what we have,” she said easily. “I get it – I damn well know why the officers want you in their ranks. I just wish they’d let us grunts keep some people like you, because Zarkon on the Throne, we could use guys like you on the battlefield.”

Keith had to smile at that. “If it makes you feel better,” he said, “if General Narti does promote me, trust me, I’ll be keeping an eye on the guys on the battlefield.”

Hasha smiled wryly. “You’d better!” she said. She stopped at the barracks and pressed a hand to the access pad, smiling as the doors opened. “It’s almost 1700 vargas,” she said, nodding at the door to the mess hall. “Go get dinner. I’ve got to get rid of this armor, and I’ll be right behind you.”

Right, she was still wearing that armor. Even just in his flight-suit, the gravity on this planet was uncomfortable. Keith sprang for the door, and jogged to the mess, just to prove to himself that he could still move quickly in this gravity.

No matter how many years he spent in space, Keith couldn’t stop himself from comparing galra food to human food. The bright blue slop dumped on his plate was eerily similar to chili-mac in texture, but the taste more resembled a half-rotten baked potato smothered in sour ranch dressing. Keith choked it down anyways, knowing that he needed the sustenance. He hadn’t enjoyed food since he left Earth, and frankly, he didn’t need to enjoy it – he just needed to stomach it.

After choking down his meal, he followed Hasha back to the barracks. He could feel the burning eyes of the other privates, begging for an explanation, but he’d rather leave it up to the most senior soldier to explain his potential change in status. Rather than interacting with them, Keith stripped off his flight-suit and donned his sleeping gear, crawling into his bunk a good varga before lights-out. The more sleep he could get, the better.

* * *

Nearly a phoeb passed before the officers came for him.

The rest of Keith’s former squad had left only two quintets after he had received the offer from his superiors. Alone in the barracks, Keith trained with the sword and took the opportunity of solitude to read the few manuals he had on his datapad, determined to strengthen his understanding of the written galra language. His language progress was slow, at best, but his sword skills had dramatically improved in the strong-gravity atmosphere, and that was something to be proud of, he thought.

He was given a full varga to prepare before being presented to General Narti. Even knowing that she wouldn’t care about his appearance, he took the brief notice to shower and style his hair before donning the armor afforded to enlisted men. He strapped the sword to his waist before securing his blaster at his side. The entire process took less than half a varga, to the point where he was nearly impatient when the sentries – actual _sentries_ , as if on a proper battle cruiser – came to take him to the pod that would ferry Keith to Narti’s ship.

Walking aboard the immense cruiser was intimidating, in a way that even docking on the major’s ship wasn’t. Keith was somewhat relieved that Skra and Sanksi met him at the mouth of the ship to walk him towards the ship’s interrogation room.

Even knowing what was coming, his knees nearly gave out when the door hissed open. Woodenly, he made his way to the only open chair in the room, conveniently pulled out before him. The eyeless reptilian woman towered a whole head above him, choosing to stand rather than sit. Settling in the chair put him even lower. Keith swallowed hard, staring for the first time at the general he’d been assigned to follow.

He’d heard the stories, but Narti was somehow even more intense and horrifying in person. Up close, he could see the minute scar-tissue that held her mouth closed, preventing her from speaking. Her upper face was a blank mask, with no congenital eyes, or even eye sockets, to mask her blindness – nothing but smooth, patterned skin from the mouth up. Narti turned to face him as he settled, and Keith couldn’t help but hide his shudder. He forced himself to focus on her ears, which took the form of tiny holes inside growths near the top of her head. He wasn’t sure whether he found them repulsive or comforting.

Narti turned her head away from Keith to stare at the officers. They both froze, still and unbreathing for a long moment. She looked away, and the both seemed to shrink in on themselves. “Vrepit sa,” Sanksi said shakily.

“Vrepit sa,” Skra echoed.

Keith’s stomach twisted as they both backed out of the room, leaving him alone with General Narti. He swallowed hard, pressing against the back of the seat, as far away as he could be from her without running from the room. He knew he should say something, but his throat felt locked, clogged with the sheer visceral horror from being in the room with such a mutated being.

Narti turned her face to him as he shrank back, biting down the whimper that nearly escaped him. She reached for him, a single clawed, reptilian hand, and he fought to keep any sound from escaping as she pressed down hard against his shoulder, grounding herself against him.

_Don’t be afraid._

It wasn’t words, precisely – more like a feeling that strengthened in intensity as Narti pressed her hand against him. Keith stared at her, his eyes roving across the impassive, eyeless mask of his general.

_You don’t need to fear me. You’re one of my men. Actually, you’re better than most of my men._

Keith took a deep breath, staring at Narti. “Are… How are you even speaking to me?” he asked.

Something like a laugh rippled through his body, originating from her. _Physical contact allows me to transfer my words from my mind to yours, in a sense. I’m surprised – you understand me better than most do. Your commanding officers took full movements to learn to parse my thoughts and translate them as words._

Keith swallowed hard. “Oh,” he said, unsure of what else to say.

Something shifted in Keith’s peripheral vision. He jumped, startled, as a small, four-legged creature leapt onto the table and climbed Narti’s arm, settling on her shoulder and staring at Keith with intense, intelligent eyes. The thing looked strangely like the pictures Keith had seen of cats back on earth, albeit with some extraneous tufts of fur and strange coloring.

A wave of content flowed from through Keith, distinctly not his own. _Do not fear Kova. He acts as my eyes._ Narti reached up with the hand not touching Keith’s shoulder and stroked the creature. _You look more galran than I had anticipated. It’s the details that give you away._

Keith blinked, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you?” he said, after a short pause. He was used to people pointing out how his human blood kept him from looking galra – too small by a long shot, his eyes and hair and feet all wrong, claws too dull, fangs underdeveloped, with strange quirks of the body that didn’t appear in any full-blood galra.

 _It’s an observation, not a compliment._ There was no malice to her words, as they were – or if there was, she hid it well. _Now, to the task at hand. Your commanding officers have requested that I redesignate you as an officer, rather than an enlisted soldier._

It was a statement of fact, but Keith nodded anyways. “Yes, General,” he said.

Amusement tickled at the corners of his mind, and Narti inclined her head. _I see no reason to deny this request._ The cat-like creature on her shoulder – Kova, was it? – turned its head, its gaze boring into Keith as though it could see the very core of him. _From what I sense within you, you have the potential to serve our purpose to the highest degree._ Kova’s head tilted as if in contemplation, even as Narti herself remained eerily still. _I wonder…_

Something _seized_ Keith hard, a sudden onslaught of invading _presence._ He tried to open his mouth to shout – nothing. Panicking, he attempted to raise a hand, and received no response. Somehow, the general was _controlling_ him.

“Interesting.” Oh, no. Zarkon on the Throne, _no._ That was his mouth – her words were coming from his mouth. Keith struggled, fighting to move his limbs, his mind whirling as he struggled to understand, to contemplate how Narti could suddenly just take him over. “You figured out it was me right away. Only two other people have succeeded in that before – and both were also half‑galra, too.”

 _Get out!_ Keith screamed internally, desperate panic clutching in his chest. He couldn’t even _blink,_ what was she _doing?!_

“Calm down, Private Keith,” his own mouth said. Her words, not his. “You’re already doing better than most, but you won’t get anywhere with mindless flailing.”

 _Think._ Okay, so, moving his body was out of the question. Whatever General Narti had done, his body was responding to her commands rather than his own, as if she had overridden his own will. Trying to move wasn’t going to get him anywhere, not with her looming presence holding him trapped in his own mind.

Her presence in his mind and body – could he fight that, somehow? Find a way to fight back from the inside, to allow his will to overcome hers? How would he even do that?

“Good, Private,” Narti said. So strange, to hear someone else’s words in his own voice, to feel his mouth move against his will. “That’s a good start. You’re quite clever, aren’t you?” His body rose at her command, and she stretched his arms above his head. “Let’s add some incentive.” Against his will, he began to walk to the door; Narti followed, her hand still resting on his shoulder.

Dread nestled in Keith’s gut, growing exponentially as they walked down the unnervingly deserted halls of the cruiser. He growled internally, shoving at the presence in his mind as Narti took a brief stop to don a suit designed for deep space conditions, keeping one hand on Keith at all times. Narti turned Keith’s head and caught Kova’s eyes, then made a strange gesture with one of his hands. Whatever that was, it was enough to send Kova scampering off the other way down the hall, and then they were moving again.

 _I’m surprised you haven’t figured out what’s about to happen yet._ Narti didn’t use Keith’s voice to speak that time, to his immense relief. _You should hurry. You haven’t got much time left._

Much time for what?

Keith’s heart nearly stuttered to a halt as they turned down one final corridor, and he realized what their destination had to be. An airlock – Zarkon on the Throne, that was an _airlock._ Keith _screamed_ internally, shoving desperately at the presence in his mind. He pounded viciously, seeking any crack, any hint of give, as his legs carried him closer, ever closer, one arm extending to press his palm to the access pad –

Something _cracked,_ and Keith jerked his limb back with a yell, blasting the presence from his mind. Narti stumbled backwards, her empty face offering no expression, no answers. “What in _Zarkon’s name_ was that?” Keith roared, stumbling backwards, eager to put some distance between both the general and the airlock.

Narti tilted her head slightly and reached for Keith, who practically leapt out of the way, his heart pounding. “Oh, no way,” he growled. “I am _not_ letting you space me!”

Narti straightened her shoulders and tapped one finger against her general’s insignia. Right. She was his superior officer.

Right now, Keith was too livid to care. “Yeah, right, you’re my general. _That’s_ how you lead? You, what, overtake people and _space_ them?”

Nothing ostensibly changed in Narti’s face, but Keith got the sense that his remarks offended her. Keith grimaced, trying to quiet his whirling mind. Right, okay, so he’d probably just flushed his career down the latrine. And for what? The interview, or interrogation – whatever he could call their meeting, had seemed to be going well. She’d seemed reasonably impressed. Why would she suddenly flip and try to kill him?

Narti shifted her weight impatiently, her thick tail lashing from side to side. Keith grimaced, then sighed. “Please don’t space me,” he muttered, taking a few cautious steps until he was back within her range, balling his fists and tensing as the general laid a hand on his shoulder once again.

 _It wouldn’t have been much of a test if I told you beforehand what was going to happen._ Something strangely like pride echoed in her sentiments. _You performed admirably. Less trusting than the last one who passed, though – she was confident from the beginning that I wouldn’t actually hurt her. And she was right. I don’t throw my men out of airlocks, Private Keith._

Keith swallowed hard and tried to relax. “What kind of _test_ is that?” he demanded.

 _It was a test to see if I should consider you for a particular role. I can’t tell you more than this._ Something light brushed past Keith’s legs, and Kova managed a running leap onto Narti’s shoulders. Narti idly stroked the creature, who stared directly at Keith. _Only two before you have passed. You make the third._

Keith wondered if that was meant to be flattering. “So, what now?” he asked, aiming for a respectful tone. He was pretty sure he fell short of the mark, but Narti didn’t seem to take offense.

_For now, you will take command as a Lieutenant. I will authorize this. Be advised – I will be keeping a close, personal eye on you, Keith._

Yeah, that wasn’t comforting. Keith nodded hesitantly, fully wondering what he’d gotten himself into.

 _The officers who recommended you will be waiting in the Officers’ Lounge. Dismissed._ Narti drew her hand back from Keith’s shoulder and saluted.

Shakily, Keith saluted back. “Vrepit sa,” he said. Narti inclined her head in response. Keith squared his shoulders, turned, and marched down the corridor, taking the turns suspected would lead to the Officers’ Lounge.

He was halfway there before his legs gave out as the events of the meeting truly hit him. “Oh, god,” Keith croaked, halfway surprise to hear the English words escaping him. He raised a hand to his mouth and swallowed rapidly as his stomach turned, nausea roiling through him. Had that really just happened? Had he really had his body snatched from him by his own general? Nearly been _spaced?_

Narti had said she wasn’t actually going to space him, but no matter how many times Keith repeated her words, he couldn’t quite make himself believe them. He leaned forward, conceding the battle his stomach was determined to win, and vomited on the floor in front of him. He stared at his own sick with vague disgust, unsure of what to do – flag down a passing sentry? Search for some kind of cleaning droid?

In the end, he decided to leave it. Keith clutched at the wall as he staggered to his feet, taking a moment to ensure that no vomit had ended up in his hair or on his armor before stepping over the puddle and making his way towards the Officers’ Lounge.

The door hissed open, and Skra and Sanksi leapt to their feet nearly in unison. “What’s the verdict?” Lieutenant Skra asked.

Keith blinked a couple times to get his bearings. “She… she’s promoting me,” he said, dazed.

“And from the look on your face, I’m guessing you got the treatment everyone gets the first time General Narti promotes them,” Sanksi said, sounding almost concerned. “Sit,” he ordered, gesturing at one of the open benches. “Sorry I couldn’t warn you. I’m surprised you’re up and moving. It took me a full varga to gain consciousness after her test.”

Keith frowned and staggered to the indicated bench, collapsing gratefully. “I didn’t pass out,” he said, slumping forward and allowing his hair to fall in his face.

“Really? That’s impressive,” Sanksi said, sounding surprised. “I’ve never known anyone to stay conscious by the end.”

“You’re making me want to never get promoted,” Lieutenant Skra grumbled. “Whatever this test thing is, I don’t like the sound of it.”

Keith shuddered, his armor clacking softly. “She said I’m something like the third person ever to pass, so, I guess that means something,” he groaned.

“Wait, you _passed?”_ Sanksi said disbelievingly. “You’re sure? You know you can get the promotion without passing that test, right?”

Keith shrugged, staring at his hands. “She said I passed it, so I guess I did.”

“I’m so confused,” Skra muttered.

“Wow.” Silence reigned for a long moment, and then Sanksi clapped Keith on the shoulder. “I knew we made the right call in recommending you as an officer! Passing General Narti’s test… Absolutely amazing. You’re clearly destined for great things, I must say.”

Keith looked up and offered a weak smile at the praise. He hoped the major was right. The image of his hand hovering above the airlock access panel loomed, huge and terrifying in his mind, and somehow, he wasn’t so sure.

/>

" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Military ranks are complicated and I probably spent more time researching this chapter than writing it. Events in this chapter are inspired by a story told to me by a family member who happens to be military. The body possession and airlock situation were not part of the original story.
> 
> You will never convince me that someone of mixed-species won't have weird biological quirks, such as being basically a cat but still having sweat glands. I spent a ridiculous amount of time re-watching every scene with the galra just to confirm that none of the full-blood galra sweat on-screen, so. Priorities.
> 
> Also, AO3 ate my really cool formatting I had in Word. Not entirely sure how to fix it... Oh well. Enjoy anyways!
> 
> Edited 02/24/2018: Guys Holy Crow, the amazing Wisttic, aka ChirpingFrog on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ChirpingFrog) and [Tumblr](http://chirpingfrog.tumblr.com/) drew another art, this time of the Keith and Narti airlock scene!


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reality of military life is not always pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: minor character death and corporal punishment.
> 
> (Honestly, if you don't do well with minor character death, this may not be the story for you. People die when wars are fought.)

Keith stared in frustration at the mission plans laid out before him, an endless sea of technical files. Major Sanksi had briefed him – had briefed all the lieutenants – at the meeting three vargas ago. It wasn’t that Keith didn’t know the situation at hand. What had begun as a small number of rabble insurgents on a planet known as Kessar had risen to a full-scale, planet-wide rebellion. Worse still, Kessar, before it was pacified, had been home to a people with a variety of shifting leaders, alliances, and values. While they had agreed to band together and fight, there was no single figurehead or method that could be used to force the rebels to surrender. The major’s overall plan was simply to go in and pacify by any means necessary. Fantastic. Keith shifted the mission plans to his secondary screen to stare at the planetary map, focusing on the section of the planet he’d been assigned to put down.

There were notes next to the map, but Keith chose to replay the verbal briefing he’d been given on his sector. Three main groups, all of which fed into the overall main group. One group was deeply religious and tended to keep to themselves, offering primarily material support in the form of food and crafted weaponry. Another was a warlike group with a philosophy not unlike the galran Victory or Death. It was from that group that the initial rebels had originated. The third group seemed comprised of ordinary civilians just trying to make it by, without any strong moral stake in the rebellion. It was that group, primarily, that Keith was determined to protect from casualties. They’d likely surrender easily, if it seemed the best way to survive.

This would require multiple strike teams and a variety of tactics, at best. At worst, they might have to quell the rebellion by simply firebombing the planet until they sued for peace. There might be an answer buried somewhere in the detailed files of the situation, Keith thought, staring angrily at the file on his secondary screen, but he’d never know because there was no way he could _read_ the whole thing before shipping out!

The door to his office hissed open. Keith glanced over and offered a nod as he turned to face the figure in the doorway. “Sergeant Hrot,” he said, nodding a greeting.

“Sir,” the sergeant rumbled. “Permission to send Squad Y0P93 on the Kessar pacification mission. The squad is full of new recruits, and it’s about time they see some action.”

Keith sighed and rubbed behind his ears. He could already feel a headache brewing, which he had to assume was a human thing. He’d never heard any of the other galra mention headaches from stress. “If they’re green, I’d rather send them in alongside a more experienced squad,” he said. Three sects within his sector. Where would he rather send an inexperienced squad?

The warlike group of rebels was his best bet. When inevitably someone from the squad lashed out and killed someone who was fleeing or surrendering, at least Keith could have it on his conscience that it was the group who most deserved it. He grimaced. “They’ll go in with Squad Y0P86,” he said. He’d been planning to send Y0P86 in anyways – of the ten squads he oversaw as Lieutenant, those were the best equipped to handle the sort of insurgents who would fight back.

“Understood,” Sergeant Hrot said, sounding pleased. “Vrepit sa.”

Keith returned the sergeant’s salute, then turned back to his map.Y0P94 and Y0P95 were just as inexperienced as their preceding squad. 91 and 92 had some combat under their belts, but not enough that Keith wanted to send them down alone. 88 was a solid choice for the civilian group – they could handle their own in the field without giving into bloodlust, and the sergeant was decent at negotiating. For the religious group, though…

Keith picked up his file on the religious rebels, staring with frustration at the galran characters. Each word was a struggle, but as he parsed his way through the text, he was able to get a gist of what these rebels may value. Life, well, that didn’t surprise him. Assisting others even at the sacrifice of one’s self – that was a bit more of a hassle. Keith wasn’t sure he had any squads he would trust to negotiate with that as a value.

In that case, he may as well take along some of the inexperienced squads, as it seemed he was going to have to lead the mission and negotiations himself. Keith tapped his screen and pulled up his direct communications window. “Get me Major Sanksi,” he ordered.

A few seconds later, Sanksi’s face flickered into view on the screen. “Lieutenant Keith,” he said in greeting. “Have you determined your squad assignments?”

“Yes, Major,” Keith said promptly. “Squad Y0P93 will accompany Squad Y0P86 to put down…” he squinted, sounding out the name of the particular group of insurgents. “To put down the Ythhrik sect. Squad Y0P88 will handle the, uh, Ultzthki sect. I will lead Squad Y0P94 to take down the final sect.”

Sanksi frowned, his ears turning back slightly. “You plan to fight alongside your enlisted men?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “That’s very unorthodox. You know I’ll have to include that in my report, right?” he warned. “It could be seen as behavior unbecoming of an officer.”

Keith gritted his teeth. “I understand, but my priority is the mission,” he said, forcing himself to maintain a neutral tone. “None of my squads have the diplomatic experience to negotiate down a group with the values this group espouses, not without dealing out massive casualties.”

“And you think you do,” Sanksi said flatly.

Keith raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t that part of why you wanted me as an officer?” he asked his direct superior of nearly a deca‑phoeb.

Sanksi huffed. “Ever to my detriment,” he muttered. If Keith didn’t know the man as well as he did, he’d think the major actually meant it. “Fine, I’ll approve it for this mission. But Lieutenant?” He waited until Keith met his glowing eyes to continue. “Don’t make a habit of this. It isn’t how we operate.”

Keith longed to point out that there were no _official_ rules preventing officers from engaging in the field, but that just might be crossing a line. “I understand,” he said.

“Very well. Contact the sergeants of each squad to pass out assignments.”

“Vrepit sa,” Keith intoned, saluting before ending the message.

* * *

After nearly a deca-phoeb of riding a computer terminal, it was positively _exhilarating_ to take to the battlefield once again. While Squad Y0P94 all chose to rely on their blasters, Keith had elected to leave his on the ship and fight with his sword. The Kessarians weren’t a terribly technologically proficient people, relying almost entirely on spears and minor explosive devices – as easy to parry and avoid with a sword as with a blaster, if not even easier. For their part, the religious sect fought well enough, but it took less than a varga before Keith had their leader on the ground, his sword to the alien’s throat.

“Bind them, Sergeant Brav,” Keith ordered, the point of his sword pressed against the alien’s pale, nearly-translucent orange skin.

“P-please,” the alien wheezed, their hands in the air, their four eyes all trained on him. “You can’t…”

Sergeant Brav easily snapped cuffs on all six of the alien’s wrists. They was a strange looking creature – six arms, each with two independently functioning hands, and a single long tentacle-like protrusion that writhed and slimed its way across the ground as a means of locomotion. Their four eyes were set beneath their toothless mouth, and they seemed to have no nose to speak of. The Kessarians Keith had cut down only moments ago had highly resembled them, albeit one’s eyes had been above their mouth, and the other’s mouth had been located at approximately eye level, but on the back of their head.

Definitely one of the stranger species he’d encountered. Keith lifted his sword slightly, just enough to allow the leader to breathe without their skin pressing into the point of his sword. “When I remove my sword, you’re going to get up, and you’re going to order the rest of your people out of the temple,” he said, allowing his voice to go cold. “If they refuse, they’ll be removed by force. If they attempt to fight us, they’ll be killed. My men will prevent them from entering the temple until we have finished out discussion. If they attempt to enter, they’ll be killed. Is that clear?”

The leader’s eyes widened, and they stared at Keith with a mixture of fear and hate. “I understand,” they croaked.

Good. Keith had been hoping the creature wouldn’t call his bluff – the last thing he actually wanted was to massacre these aliens. Keith withdrew his sword, keeping it held loosely in his hand, and waited as the Kessarian struggled to their… locomotive tentacle. Once they were upright, Keith produced a vocal magnifier and held it to the alien’s mouth, grimacing as his wrist nearly hit the Kessarian in the eye. “Make the announcement.”

The Kessarian glared at Keith, but opened their mouth dutifully. “All members of The Order of The Holy Xtltri,” they announced, their voice morose, “it is with great sorrow that I announce that you must evacuate the temple. Should you refuse, the tyrants will force you. Should you resist, the tyrants will murder you. And should you attempt to enter the temple before the terms of our oppression are solidified, you will, once again, be slaughtered shamelessly.”

Keith stared at the Kessarian for a long moment, very nearly impressed. “Not exactly what I told you to say,” he remarked mildly. He hadn’t expected that sort of… verbal resistance, as it was.

“It was what you told me to say, unsanitized,” the Kessarian said coldly, glowering at Keith.

Keith nodded. “Brav, go assist with the ‘evacuation’ of the temple,” he ordered. “Report back to me when it’s done, so we can begin negotiations.”

Brav scowled resentfully. “I’m capable of handling the negotiations, sir,” she grumbled.

She really wasn’t. “Humor me,” Keith ordered. “I’d like to lead this one myself.” He had to admit, he was curious to see how negotiations would go with an alien who, when out of other options and the physical means to fight back, resisted simply by being passive-aggressive.

Keith’s wrist-communicator dinged as Brav made her way out of the room with a huff. He tapped the screen and squinted at the message that displayed in the air – the holographic writing made galran even more difficult to read.

_Ultzthki sect secured. Leader accepted standard terms. Backup required?_

Short and to-the-point. Sergeant Quilvari was one of his favorite people for that – apparently, she had a niece who also struggled with the galran written language. Keith hadn’t inquired further, and was grateful for her efforts to keep written messages simple for him. Slowly, he tapped out and sent his response.

_Negative. Check in with the others._

He was fairly certain that Sergeants Hrot and Thent would have checked in if they needed backup, but it was possible that some of the squads under other lieutenants could use help at other rebel strongholds on the planet.

“How could you do this?”

Keith turned his attention back to the prisoner in his custody. “What, follow orders? Put down rebellions against the empire?”

The leader shook their head. “Work with the _galra,”_ they spat. “You’re not galra – why would you turn traitor and associate with them?”

Keith bristled, the blood warming ever so slightly in his veins as he glared at the Kessarian. “I’m galra enough,” he replied tightly.

“But surely you saw the way the galra treated your other people,” the Kessarian said desperately. “Surely you know it’s wrong!”

Ugh. Keith clenched his fists and reminded himself not to grind his teeth together. “Actually, my… other people, as you put it, have no interactions with the galra,” he said, crossing his arms. “Better for me if they had. Why don’t you want the stability offered by the Galra Empire?” he shot back.

“Slavery isn’t stability,” the alien spat.

Keith hummed. The Kessarians considered their previous conditions in the empire to be akin to slavery. Good to know – he could use that to his advantage during their negotiations. It wouldn’t be hard to make the necessary modifications for the Kessarians to feel a part of the empire, rather than a possession. “What’s your name, Kessarian?” he asked, meeting the creatures closest two eyes.

The Kessarian reared back slightly, as if startled. “Xzic-tyllis,” they said warily.

Keith grimaced – pronouncing that was going to be a huge pain. “Gotcha,” he said. “Look, Zick tyllis –” he winced at his own garbled pronunciation of the name “– when my sergeant gets back, we’re going to have a nice set of negotiations, and yes, you will be able to request terms,” he said, flicking his ears to see if he could hear Brav anywhere nearby. Nothing.

“I will not stop fighting for my people, even if it costs me my life,” Xzic-tyllis spat.

“Yeah,” Keith said, nodding. “From what I know about your religion, I figured that out. We’ll see if we can come to a reasonable compromise for all of us.”

Xzic-tyllis’s eyes narrowed distrustfully, but they said nothing.

Less than a dobosh later, the door to the inner room of the temple swung open. Brav stomped back in, scowling. “Had to put down a few upstarts, but the rest left when they saw we were serious ‘bout killing them,” she said abruptly, stalking forward to stand with Keith before Xzic‑tyllis.

Damnit. Keith closed his eyes and nodded. “Understood,” he said, the word bitter on his tongue. He’d _hoped_ to evacuate the temple without additional casualties.

Xzic‑tyllis let out a low wail and buried their face in their first set of cuffed hands. “Have we not suffered enough?” they demanded. “Must you galra kill us in our sacred temple, too?”

Keith forced himself to open his eyes and look at the distraught creature before him. “You have the power to keep any more of your Order from getting killed,” he said coolly. “Shall we begin negotiations?”

The Kessarian made a wet, choking sound. “I assume the negotiations go something like ‘surrender to the boot at your mouth, or perish,’” they said bitterly.

Keith shook his head. “Not in the slightest,” he said evenly. “We are here to extend an offer. Ally with the Galra Empire. Become a part of Zarkon’s command, rather than a possession of it. You’d be citizens of the empire – not slaves. And you’ll have a chance to negotiate your place and role in the empire, instead of having the empire decide for you.”

The opening speech was essentially rehearsed, by now, with the added assurance that the Kessarians would not be enslaved by their deal, knowing that to be Xzic‑tyllis’s fear.

Xzic‑tyllis frowned, the motion causing the skin above their eyes to furrow. A long moment passed before the Kessarian opened their mouth to speak again. “No.”

It wasn’t too terribly uncommon an answer. Keith opened his mouth to respond, but not before Brav interrupted. “Guess that’s that,” the sergeant said, grinning as she raised her blaster.

“Hold, sergeant!” Keith barked, startled.

Brav whipped her head around to glare at him. “They turned down the deal!” she snapped. “They had their shot, and now it’s time to end this rebellious little menace!”

Keith stared at her in disbelief for a moment before shaking his head. “Is this how you handle all your negotiations, sergeant?” he demanded, his voice hard. “Ask once, then start shooting?”

Brav glared at him. “That’s protocol, sir,” she snapped, her ears flattening against her head as she bared her teeth.

Instinctively, Keith’s ears flattened too, and he snarled right back, fully aware that his display was far from intimidating. Whatever. He could pull rank. “You and I will be having a discussion back on the ship,” he hissed. “Get out. You’re dismissed from this negotiation.”

Brav spun on her heel and nearly wrenched the temple door off its hinges as she stalked out of the room. Keith grimaced and turned his attention back to Xzic‑tyllis, who was positively quaking with fear. Okay. He could use Brav’s little display to his advantage. “As you can see, some people might take your refusal to become part of the empire as an insult. Let’s make this clear, your choice is to join or die. And if you refuse, your people die. That doesn’t exactly sound like assisting others, does it?”

Xzic‑tyllis shook their head rapidly.

Keith exhaled. Finally, they were getting somewhere. He’d forgotten how frustrating negotiations were – sure, he was good at them, but that didn’t mean he had to _like_ them. The fight before the negotiations was just so much more satisfying.

Might as well start with a token towards Xzic‑tyllis, let the Kessarian truly realize that they did, in fact, have a say in the terms of their place in the empire. “So,” Keith began, meeting the alien’s eyes. “What about your previous terms was so unpalatable, that you and your people felt the need to rebel?”

“Terms?” Xzic-tyllis scoffed. “There were no terms. Nearly a thousand years ago, you galra came from the sky, the first unlike ourselves we had ever seen, and laid waste to our cities. You harvested our people, taking them to worlds unknown to serve as your slaves, forcing those of us left here to break our backs producing food for your _empire,_ with barely enough left to keep most of the population from starving. And many did starve, so we could meet your _quotas,”_ they spat.

Keith frowned. That sounded like the tactics of the main fleet, not Prince Lotor’s fleet. “That’s not how this is going to work this time,” he promised. “Those tactics are outdated, I promise. We don’t work like that anymore.” The main fleet might still work that way – he wasn’t exactly up‑to-date on its movements – but never once had Keith witnessed a successful negotiation that ended with the planet’s inhabitants in such wretched condition.

Xzic‑tyllis eyed him warily. “Then how do you work?” they asked bitterly.

“In general?” Keith asked. He waited for Xzic‑tyllis to grunt an agreement before continuing. “We do have quotas – yes, yours would be food. Thirty percent of what you produce goes to the empire. If you can’t both feed your people and make quota, you have a deficit that you fill with higher quotas during more productive years. In return, you receive resources from the empire as needed, protection from any enemies who would attack you, and can move freely through all galra‑controlled territory. That’s the baseline guidelines for bringing you into the empire. We can modify it to an extent.”

Xzic‑tyllis frowned, mulling it over. “And my people?” they asked.

Keith frowned. “What about your people?” he asked.

“Your quota for taking my people,” Xzic‑tyllis asked bitterly. “Just last year, my eighth offspring was part of that quota. Taken from my arms, into one of your arenas.”

Keith stilled, stunned. _What?_ There were still planets with slave-quotas in Lotor’s section of the empire? “We won’t keep that quota,” he said, his mind spinning. Surely it had to be an oversight. He’d bring it up with the major as soon as he got back to base. “I’ll make sure it’s abolished myself, if I have to.”

Something eased in Xzic‑tyllis’s face. “This… may be agreeable,” they said carefully.

Keith was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that a planet in his sector had been forced to produce slaves. How had he missed this? It hadn’t been in any of the briefings.

It was probably in that damned file, rotting on his computer terminal. Keith cursed internally. Looked like he couldn’t put aside reading those files just because he hated it anymore – not if he was going to end up with such massive oversights. If he’d known about this, he would have requested that Major Sanksi send him to Kessar _phoebs_ ago to re-negotiate their terms – or, it seemed, to properly negotiate them for the first time.

Focus. The negotiation wasn’t over yet, and if he couldn’t secure Xzic‑tyllis’s agreement, he wouldn’t have a choice but to secure the destruction of their entire religious sect. “Is there anything else you’d want explicitly addressed, before joining the empire?” Keith asked.

Xzic-tyllis nodded immediately. “You Galra passed out severe punishment for those of us caught openly practicing religion for the first seven-hundred years of occupation,” they said seriously. “I cannot accept your terms unless you ensure that my people can freely worship. It is vital, to us.”

It wasn’t a surprising request. Keith had heard it many times when attending and participating in negotiations in the past. “Granted,” he said. “Is that all? Will you accept our offer and become part of the Galra Empire?”

Xzic‑tyllis gulped, but nodded. “We will join you,” they said shakily. “I… I must announce to my people – they may take some time to understand –”

“They have a movement,” Keith said, cutting him off. As far as he was aware, that was how long it tended to take for Prince Lotor to appear and make everything all official. Apparently, the prince insisted on finalizing all treaties himself for some reason. Seemed strange, but he guessed that exiled princes needed _something_ to do with their time, although he’d have thought that running an entire military force would take up the majority of the prince’s energy.

It wasn’t his place to judge. Keith reached out and released the Kessarian’s many hands from their cuffs. “Remember, if you go back on our deal, you and your people _will_ be destroyed,” he warned, then turned to exit the temple.

The corpses of two of the Kessarians he had killed stared blankly up at him from the temple steps, their blank eyes somehow casting judgment.

* * *

The flight back to base was subdued, almost sullen. Keith was exceedingly grateful for the tiny officer’s quarters on the small transport shuttle – barely large enough to lie down, even as small as he was, but at least he could have some privacy. With a groan, he opened the screen on his wrist communicator. Sergeant Thent’s report was short, though not as blissfully short as Quilvari’s.

_Mission success. Conduct from Squad Y0P86 was impeccable, and we secured the Ythhrik sect under favorable terms. One aberration, unrelated to Squad Y0P86._

Keith frowned. He had two communications from Sergeant Hrot. He opened the first one, curling in on himself as best he could while he read the report.

_Overall, the mission was a success. We had one soldier severely out of line. Details to follow._

Keith didn’t like the sound of that. He went to pull up the next request, and stopped short, for once recognizing that particular galran phrase in the header.

_Flogging Request_

While flogging may have been a standard punishment in the main fleet, and even common in Lotor’s fleet, Keith had, upon taking command, ordered that any sergeant who wanted to take that disciplinary measure run it by him first. It wasn’t that Keith distrusted his sergeants, per se, or thought that they would abuse their authority – he personally had only been flogged once when he was enlisted, and only a few times when he was a cadet – but he had heard tales of the punishment being overused, and it had never sat right with him anyways. In the near-deca-phoeb he had been an officer, he had received this request from his sergeants fairly regularly – never in regards to the same individual, never often enough from the same officer to distrust them. He’d always turned them down – lessons could be better learned via restricted sleep, or increased duties.

Hrot had never submitted a flogging request, and in combination with the two reports he had just received, Keith had the feeling he was about to get some very bad news. His stomach twisting, he opened the message, steeling himself for the contents inside.

_Private Riztinc was determined missing on the field of battle midway through the fight. Upon completing negotiations, Squad Y0P93 was sent to find him, assisted by Squad Y0P86. Private Riztinc was discovered midway through dismembering one of the local Kessarians alive, with their two offspring slaughtered in a similarly unauthorized manner one room over. The dismembered Kessarian did not survive. Request for thirty lashes with an energy whip; five for each unauthorized casualty, and fifteen for desertion of duty._

For a long moment, Keith indulged in the idea that maybe, just maybe, his reading comprehension skills were even worse than he had thought, and that he hadn’t just read about one of his men, albeit an enlisted soldier he barely knew, acting as such an uncontrolled, despicable _beast._

He read the request a second time, then a third. Each time, the message provided the same information. One of his Privates had deserted the field of battle to attack the local civilians and kill them in a manner fit for the arena, not the battlefield. Keith’s blood grew hotter in his veins with each pass, nearly boiling as he painstakingly tapped out his response.

_Flogging request approved. Recommend you double the suggested number of lashes._

He suddenly longed to leave his quarters, to challenge this Private Riztinc to duel-sparring – no, to an actual duel to the death. How dare he? How _dare_ one of his men behave in such a beastly, uncivilized way, acting no better than a conquering brute, when they were supposed to be bringing planets _willingly_ into the Galra Empire? Keith clenched his fists and allowed his claws to release, letting the tiny points of pain, the minute drops of oddly reddish blood, to ground him.

He could trust his sergeant to handle his men. He had to. As an officer, even a low-ranking one, he couldn’t be everywhere. Much as it galled him to admit it, he couldn’t control everything. Sometimes, all he could do was react, and hope that the consequences were enough to deter similar misbehavior in the future.

* * *

Keith managed a full five vargas of sleep in his quarters back at the base before rising. He would have loved to sleep in longer, but authorized floggings always took place at 0500 vargas standard time, and this left him with enough time to groom himself, dress in his armor, and make his way to the public punishment arena.

It wasn’t an arena that he had ever attended, having never authorized a flogging before, and he nearly got lost on his way there. To his distaste, he realized that a good number of attendees weren’t people under his command, weren’t the people required to be there to absorb the example being made before him. No, the vast majority seemed to be there for the entertainment of watching one of their own be whipped, as though it held some sort of mass appeal. Keith clenched his teeth, biting back a growl, and let his ears lie flat as he shouldered his way to the command box. Major Sanksi was already there, looking unusually serious.

“You’ve never authorized a flogging before,” Sanksi said quietly, not bothering to greet Keith as he joined him in the box. “I’ll have to admit, I was surprised.”

Keith shrugged, squaring his shoulders. “I don’t like flogging as a punishment,” he replied. His own back tingled sympathetically, remembering the repeated lashes of the energy whip coming down on his skin, his muscles locking as electricity rippled through his body, his skin splitting until it hung in mangled shreds over his back, necrotic and useless until he was brought in for medical treatment. No, it certainly wasn’t a punishment he would ever deal out lightly.

This particular case actually _deserved_ it.

Sanksi hummed tunelessly, his eyes trained on the small arena. Keith watched too as Riztinc was led out, bare from the chest up, and secured with his arms outstretched between two poles. “You should know,” Sanksi said, “I have included your decision to authorize this in my report to Commander Castracks.”

Keith shrugged, wincing pre-emptively as the punisher geared up to bring the whip down on Riztinc’s back. “I’m sure he’s more concerned that I haven’t already authorized it on anyone before now.”

The sizzle of the energy whip connecting with Riztinc’s back echoed throughout the arena, nearly loud enough to completely eclipse the roar of pain the soldier emitted. Keith flinched despite himself, memories of burning pain and the crackle of electricity erupting in his mind. He’d never been sentenced to more than twenty lashes, when he had undergone this, and that had been unbearable. And he had sentenced Riztinc to sixty.

Three dead civilians, brutally dismembered, likely all alive throughout the majority of the attack. He had to keep that in mind. He’d been flogged for altercations with his fellow cadets and for a mutual fight with a fellow private. Riztinc was being flogged for war crimes. There was a difference.

Sanksi shrugged. “He didn’t say anything,” the major said. “I did, however, receive a request from General Narti to discuss your tactical decisions in person with you in the next several quintants. I set you up for 1300 vargas, two quintants from now, in the on-base briefing chamber.”

Keith flinched, dread growing in his chest. After their last encounter, he would have been perfectly happy never seeing General Narti again.

In the arena beneath them, Riztinc had all but collapsed against his restraints, hanging nearly insensate as the lashes continued. Keith realized he hadn’t been keeping count, but at the speed the punisher was going, surely they were at least halfway through.

Finally, _finally,_ the punisher dropped the whip and moved to release Riztinc from his bindings. A part of Keith felt that he shouldn’t be relieved – at the end of the quintant, Riztinc would go to the med-bay for treatment and be just fine; meanwhile, whatever remained of the dead Kessarians’ family had to live with their loss forever.

But the purely animal part of Keith’s brain, the part that had sparked with recognition with every arch of the energy whip – that part was relieved that the spectacle was over.

* * *

Brav presented herself in Keith’s office before the end of the quintant. “I believe I am due for a lecture, sir,” she rumbled, standing at attention in his doorway, every line in her body radiating tension.

That’s right – Keith had ordered her to submit to a lecture when they both returned to base. “Close the door,” he ordered, nodding at her.

Brav took a few steps into the room and let the door slide shut, standing nearly backed into the corner, even tenser than she had been previously. Keith frowned and minimized the files he’d been looking over – Brav had never once been so tightly wound in his presence. If anything, she was the one most brazen, most likely to roll her eyes and scoff when he spoke. Zarkon on the Throne, he’d even heard her call him “mongrel” when she thought he was out of earshot. “At ease, Sergeant,” he said dryly.

Brav slid into parade rest, none of the tension leaving her body. “Sir,” she said.

Keith frowned. “Did it seriously take me authorizing a flogging to get you to respect me?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

To his surprise, Brav let out a short bark of a laugh. “You get to the point pretty quickly, sir,” she said. “Here, I’d been thinking you were too soft on the men and our subjects, both.”

Keith nodded. And therein lay the problem – Brav thought of the planets they annexed as subjects, not part of the empire proper. “I apply force when I have to, and at reasonable levels,” he said, crossing his arms. “Sometimes, that means refusing requests for floggings, or giving a planet a few doboshes to reconsider their rebellion. And sometimes, that means doubling the number of requested lashes in a flogging, or something else on that level.” He glared into Brav’s glowing yellow eyes, daring her to challenge him.

Brav inclined her head. “Understood, sir,” she said.

Keith sighed, relaxing his stance slightly. In light of the Riztinc situation, he’d nearly forgotten that he needed to talk with Brav. “I’ll schedule a formal meeting to update all the sergeants on how to handle initial refusals from hostile planets,” he said, “but while you’re here, let’s get something straight. Our primary job in this fleet is to bring new planets into the empire, creating meaningful expansion. The more planets we hold by force, the more rebellions we need to put down. It’s a waste of time and soldiers. If I find out that any of my negotiators are choosing to take the lazy way out and end negotiations at the first ‘no,’ there will be consequences.” He narrowed his eyes at Brav. “Riztinc’s punishment today was the result of three unauthorized casualties. I’m sure you can imagine what kind of consequences would be fit for an entire planet’s worth of unnecessary casualties.”

Brav’s ears flattened against her head. “Understood,” she muttered.

Keith frowned. She wasn’t normally so willing to take his direction without complaint. “Is there something else you want to say?” he asked.

Brav scowled. “Permission to speak freely, Lieutenant?” she asked.

Keith shrugged. “You never seemed to need that before,” he remarked. “You just waited until you thought I was out of earshot to complain.” He smirked as Brav drew back slightly. “Yeah, I’ve heard your complaints about taking orders from the mongrel officer. Doesn’t bother me. Say what’s on your mind.” Okay, it bothered him a bit, but not enough to take disciplinary action.

The sergeant hesitated, clearly taken aback by Keith’s admission that he’d overheard her remarks. “W-well,” she spluttered, “it’s just that, uh, that’s just how all our squads have operated for deca-phoebs. We make the offer, per protocol, and destroy those who refuse.”

So this was a wide-spread problem in his command? Keith fought the urge to groan and bury his face in his hands. “Then it’s a good thing I’ve decided to update _all_ of you on the _meaning_ of our protocols,” he replied.

“That’s another thing,” Brav said, still cautious, as if she expected that Keith would snap and run her through with his sword. “The rest of the men won’t be happy about this. Sometimes you just need to have a good fight and _win,_ or what’s the point?”

Keith tensed, his fur rising slightly. That sort of attitude was _precisely_ what lead to the Riztinc incident. “If they want to indiscriminately fight and kill so badly, they’re free to desert,” he said, fighting to keep the anger from his voice even as his blood warmed with rage. “I’ll make sure they get sent to the arena instead of the mines when they’re caught.”

From his angle, having to crane his neck slightly to meet Brav’s eyes, Keith could see her throat working, swallowing hard. “Understood,” she said, sounding almost shaken.

Suddenly tired, Keith wanted nothing more than to finish up his work for the night and collapse in his bunk. “Dismissed, sergeant,” he said, waving her away and re-opening the files on his computer terminal.

“Vrepit sa,” Brav said, before backing out of the room.

* * *

A quintant-and-a-half later found Keith in the base briefing chamber, pacing nervously as he awaited the arrival of General Narti. He wasn’t sure exactly why the general wanted to discuss his tactical decisions in person. Maybe she favored the “offer once, then destroy” tactics his sergeants had been using – it could be that she intended to pass out disciplinary measures. It seemed odd that she would meet with him in person for that, though, so what could she actually want with him? He shuddered, his fur rising slightly at the thought.

The door to the chamber hissed open, and Keith snapped to attention with a salute. “General,” he said, watching warily as Narti stepped over the threshold and into the chamber, her tail waving lazily, Kova perched easily on her shoulder.

Narti inclined her head and walked directly up to Keith. He couldn’t quite stop himself from flinching as Narti reached for him, laying one large hand on his shoulder and grasping.

_At ease, Lieutenant._

Keith grimaced, falling awkwardly into parade rest, tense beneath the weight of Narti’s large hand. His eyes flitted between Narti’s eyeless countenance and Kova’s too-intelligent gaze. He probably should look at the general herself, even if she did somehow see through the cat-thing’s eyes.

_Were you informed of the nature of our meeting?_ Narti’s thoughts were calm in Keith’s head, almost reassuring. Keith wasn’t buying it. She’d seemed perfectly calm through their last meeting, up until she’d taken over his body.

Still, he cleared his throat and straightened. “You wanted to discuss my tactics with me,” he said, eyeing her warily.

Narti inclined her head. _I was very impressed with your handling of your sector of Kessar._ Her grip loosened somewhat on Keith’s shoulder – still firm, but her fingertips no longer pressed hard against his armor. _What made you choose to offer the Kessarians a second chance after their initial refusal?_

Keith blinked, startling somewhat. “They… They didn’t have all the information,” he said warily. “Of course they’d reject our offer before we laid out terms.” He frowned. “They didn’t exactly have the best position in the empire originally,” he added, allowing himself to skirt the edges of an accusation.

Narti’s eerily blank face gave nothing away. _I’m not sure I follow, Lieutenant._

Keith bit back a growl, his fur bristling somewhat. “The empire was still collecting slave quotas from their planet. The Kessarians had no positive interaction with the empire, and seemed to have no concept of the differences between citizenship and enslavement. I thought we’d moved past that Prince Lotor’s section of the galaxy,” he snapped. He knew he shouldn’t speak to a general so bluntly, so emotionally, and yet!

_And this concerns you._ Narti tilted her head slightly. _Why?_

He knew the correct answer to this question, the response to give a superior officer. “It’s inefficient,” he said. “Each planet we bring into the empire through negotiation, rather than conquests, expands our reach without giving cause to incite rebellion. Forcibly conquering a planet should be a last resort for the truly stubborn worlds, not a go-to method before negotiations have even been attempted.”

_That is a very practiced, official answer._ Nothing in Narti’s blank face or formal body language changed, but the air in the room suddenly seemed heavier, colder. _Is that your only reason?_

The correct answer was yes. He shouldn’t be concerning himself with the living conditions on the non-galra planets within the empire. Keith opened his mouth to give the expected answer, then paused. What was the worst that could happen if he was honest? She couldn’t exactly space him on base. “No,” he said. “I don’t like the idea of destroying and enslaving people. Maybe I’m sentimental, but it just feels wrong.” He paused before continuing. “If our empire is so great, people should _want_ to join. If we have to beat people in the ground to make them join us, then maybe –” he broke off before he could say something treasonous. Maybe he should backtrack. “Our empire is, of course, great. We need to give the worlds we annex the chance to see that.”

Kova, still stationed on Narti’s shoulder, sat up just a bit straighter at that. Keith winced, bracing himself for Narti’s reaction. He’d come dangerously close to suggesting that the empire wasn’t as great and glorious as the fleet commanders claimed – and those were thoughts that he _knew_ he had to take to his grave, or he’d meet said grave a lot faster than he’d like. He couldn’t believe that he’d nearly aired them in front of his general.

_I prefer that answer to your more official statement._ Something like satisfaction lingered in Narti’s thoughts. _Very good. Onto a second matter. For the first time in your career, you approved the flogging of a subordinate – why?_

She didn’t seem to be judging him for his ban on flogging without his approval. If anything, Keith got the sense that she was wary because he had _allowed_ it. Keith shifted slightly, unsure of how to respond.

She’d preferred the honest truth, rather than the official line, the first time. Keith exhaled, taking a moment to choose his words. “The soldier deserted his squad to murder three civilian aliens,” he said – he knew Riztinc’s transgressions had been included in the report to Narti, but laying the situation out first felt important. He couldn’t explain his reasons without tying them to the original incident. “Not only did he murder them, he chose to lock them in an area where they could not escape and dismember them alive slowly, one by one. None of the civilian aliens survived. Not only were those Kessarians unnecessary civilian casualties, but his method of killing them was cruel and outside standards of protocol – or decency.” Keith’s blood heated at the thought, and he _knew_ it showed on his face, but now that he was speaking, he couldn’t stop. “He exposed his teammates to danger due to his desire to cause unnecessary suffering, and it was fair that he experience a sense of abandonment by his peers, to go with some physical suffering of his own.” He took a shaky breath. “And at the end of the quintant, he _still_ could go and be healed and reintegrate with his squad. His squad was affected by his absence in that battle, and he can’t make up for that. And those Kessarians…” Keith clenched his fists to hide that his claws had unsheathed. “Their pain ended in their deaths. Their families will live with the loss forever. Private Riztinc spent one quintant in pain, before being healed. If anything, he wasn’t punished enough.”

Narti tilted her head at that. _You have a strong moral compass, Lieutenant._ Almost absently, she reached with her free hand to stroke Kova’s spine; the creature arched into the contact, eyes narrowing contentedly. _It’s refreshing. Tell me, were flogging not an option, how would you have punished Private Riztinc?_

Keith hesitated at that, uncertain. When he’d received the communication, he’d been so incensed that it seemed a flogging was the only reasonable course of action. Maybe he could have done things differently – maybe there was a better option?

_Think._ Keith closed his eyes and relaxed his fists. Enacting physical punishment certainly had quieted some of Keith’s desire to pummel the private into the ground, even though it had been sickening to watch – but had Riztinc learned anything from it? Probably not. So in hindsight, maybe it hadn’t been the best idea. Perhaps he had been too hasty in approving the flogging.

“I could’ve had him run battle simulations a man down for a while,” he began hesitantly. “For a few movements, at least, against enemies of varying strengths.” That was a start, but it wasn’t enough. “And then…” He wasn’t sure. How could someone simulate the pain Riztinc had caused the Kessarians and their family?

An idea popped into Keith’s mind. “I could have also suspended communication with his family and friends for the next few phoebs,” he said. “His sergeant could notify them of the suspension without his knowledge, so he would be both cut off from information about his family, all the while thinking he had gone silent with no warning to them. As a third step, I could assign his free hours to be spent in the med-bay and training with the medical staff, so he could witness the effects of physical suffering and hopefully gain some degree of compassion, so he’d never repeat a stunt like that again.”

A tendril of warmth curled in Keith’s mind, a wordless presence. He stiffened slightly, recognizing Narti’s essence from the first time she had invaded his body. This, however, was different; this time, her intent was to praise, not to possess. _Inventive thinking._ She withdrew slightly from his mind, but the warmth remained. _And if there was a repeat incident?_

That was harder. Keith cursed internally, struggling to think. “My first thought is to decommission him and send him to the arena, but…” It was incomplete. It was an option drilled into him, but somehow Keith didn’t think that was what Narti was looking for. “In the case of a second incident, he couldn’t be allowed in the field again, but I also can’t justify assigning him to the academy as an instructor,” he said slowly. “The arena would just kill him before he had the chance to learn anything. If he reoffended, I think I would blacklist him from combat and fieldwork and assign him permanently to record-keeping in medical.”

_Does that not seem like letting him off easy?_

Immediately, Keith shook his head. “If his desire for blood is that intense, being permanently barred from combat and forced into a healing position is punishment in itself,” he said.

_And what if his bloodthirst extends to his fellow galra? He could easily cause suffering by falsifying medical data._

Keith’s eyes widened. That was unexpected. He’d never even considered that a fellow galra might turn their violent impulses against their own. “At that point, he’s a danger to everyone around him,” he said. “I would have to assign him to the arena, designated only for kill matches, or secure an official execution order.”

It was strange, the way Narti’s featureless face managed to seem so expressive. Keith shivered under the weight of her skepticism. _And what of the people who were harmed, in your determination to give a soldier with these tendencies so many chances?_

Keith stiffened, his fur rising – he’d anticipated that question even less than the previous one. “That’s a lot of hypotheticals you’re throwing at me,” he snapped, despite himself. “Amends would depend on the exact situation! I don’t have a perfect answer for you – I’d need more information!”

Narti was still for a moment, then inclined her head. _You are exceeding my expectations, Lieutenant Keith._ Kova released a trill-like purr as her thoughts echoed through Keith’s mind. _You’re very promising. I have no doubt that I’ll be in touch soon._ She stepped back, withdrawing her arm from Keith’s shoulder.

“Wait,” Keith blurted out as she turned to leave. Narti turned back to him, and he swallowed hard. “The planets like Kessar – the planets with slave quotas. You said you preferred my official answer on that. What –” He broke off, swallowing hard.

Narti reached out and gently rested her hand on his shoulder. _Kessar was an oversight. I will bring this knowledge to Prince Lotor, and we will make sure that no other planets in our sector are undergoing the same plight._

It was as much as he could expect. Keith straightened as Narti withdrew her hand, pressing his fist to his chest. “Vrepit sa,” he said.

Narti regarded him with her blank face for a moment, then turned and pressed her palm to the door, exiting as soon as it hissed open. Keith was left alone in the room, a new set of questions burning in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter: Oh man, Keith is such a great and reasonable negotiator!  
> Reading this chapter: Keith, you imperialistic little shit....
> 
> On that note, I imagine that Keith as raised by the Galra military would have some different traits and beliefs than the Keith we know and love in canon. I'm trying to work these modifications in without compromising his core values and personality. Any feedback on that front is welcomed!
> 
> I swear, Lotor will show up. I promise he's a major character. There's just a lot of world-building to go through first.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith undergoes an unexpected change in status.

Keith was in the officer’s mess, prepared to take his breakfast alone as usual, when Lieutenant Thartix nearly rammed him, almost spilling her tray of baked thekset nerves in her eagerness. “Lieutenant Keith!” she said, her eyes sparkling as she stared down at him. “I know, I know, you always sit alone, but you must join us today! There’s news!”

Keith blinked at her, uncomprehending, before glancing down at his own bowl of cleaned and cooked nerves. He supposed it would be just as unpalatable to eat his food in the company of other officers as it would be to eat it alone. What did he have to lose? He followed Thartix – generally eager, from the few interactions he’d had with her – to sit at a table with his fellow lieutenants. He exchanged a nod with Skra, then turned back to Thartix, who was nearly vibrating with excitement.

“So, what’s the news?” a burly reptilian lieutenant whose name Keith didn’t know asked, right before ripping through a mouthful of cooked nerves.

“It’s crazy!” Thartix said, her eyes nearly sparking at the news. “There’s been an unprecedented promotion. Have you heard of Lieutenant Axca?”

Most of the group stared blankly at her, Keith included. Why should he know a lieutenant that he’d never met, that had never been stationed on this base?

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Thartix said, her tail flicking eagerly. “She just got promoted to general – like, the highest rank of general, directly under _Prince Lotor._ From _Lieutenant.”_

That… Wasn’t possible. “What kind of gossip chain do you follow?” Keith couldn’t help but ask.

Thartix shoved him playfully. “Stow it, runt,” she teased, grinning. Keith knew better than to take her words as a challenge – Thartix had never once shown him hostility for his blood status. “Something major’s going down. Isn’t it _cool_ to watch it develop?”

Keith wasn’t sure if ‘cool’ was the right word, so he shrugged in response. If she was telling the truth, it was certainly interesting. He bit into his nerves, grimacing at the rubbery texture. There wasn’t much point in putting stock in rumors. If there was a new general, the troops would receive an announcement within the next few quintants. Until then, Keith would hold onto his doubts.

* * *

The summons came unexpectedly the next day as Keith was sorting through records of troop movements in an attempt to determine the course of action for his squads in the next six movements. Rebellions could crop up at any time, but the past few phoebs had been unusually quiet, and the Commander had ordered that at least half of all personnel be shipped out to scout the neighboring star system for potential inhabited worlds.

**“Lieutenant Keith.”** Keith froze, hearing his name over the base-wide intercom. **“Report to the base processing center immediately.”**

Keith swallowed hard, his fur rising instinctively as he powered down his computer terminal. The base processing center was generally used only in terms of receiving new recruits or reassigning soldiers to another command. Was he being transferred off-world? It was the only explanation that made sense, even though command transfers almost never came without warning.

He took a moment to smooth down the fur at the back of his neck before exiting the room. Whatever was going on, he didn’t need to show too many signs of physical agitation.

The trek to the processing center wasn’t long, but Keith felt every step he took to his core. He passed a group of privates – not his own – who failed miserably at hiding their stares. He couldn’t blame them – this was anything but protocol.

The door to the processing center hissed open, and one of the base data managers looked up from his terminal. “Lieutenant Keith?” he asked. Keith nodded a confirmation, and the data manager pointed to a door at the back of the center. “Through there,” the data manager said.

Forcing down his trepidation, Keith passed the data manager’s terminal and pressed his palm to the door’s access pad. The door hissed open, and Keith stepped inside, only nominally surprised to see General Narti directly within the tiny room.

The door shut behind him, and Keith snapped his arm to his chest in salute. “General,” he said cautiously. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Narti turned slightly to face Keith, her eyeless face nonetheless seeming to stare at him. Kova, Keith realized, was nowhere in sight. Keith found that this set him on edge somewhat, and he tensed, waiting for the pressure of Narti’s hand on his shoulder.

_This test should be self-evident._ Keith jumped, startled, and stared around the room. That – whatever that was, it definitely had the same feel as Narti’s thoughts, the same sense of nebulous meaning, rather than actual words. _I hear your movements. Do you hear my voice?_

“You…” Keith stared at the general, struggling to wrap his mind around the situation. “I, yes, but… You’re not touching me, this time.”

Narti inclined her head. _If you can hear me, your quintessence is compatible with mine. That is good. You passed all my tests so far, even the ones you didn’t know of._ Satisfaction colored her thoughts. _The next test is imminent, and it isn’t mine._

All this talk of tests had Keith’s fur rising again. He let his ears draw back warily as he watched the general. Her empty face gave nothing away. “What are these tests for?” he asked cautiously.

Narti straightened slightly. _I cannot tell you, yet. If you agree to come with me to my ship, and pass the final test, then you will be told what this all means._

Keith really, really didn’t like the sound of that. On the other hand, from what he’d gathered, almost no one passed _any_ of Narti’s tests, and he’d passed all of them so far. It would be nice to have some answers.

Even though he doubted that any answers could make up for the sheer horror of almost being sent out an airlock, whether Narti would have actually gone through with it or not.

He needed to know. “Okay,” he said, nodding even though he knew Narti wouldn’t see it. “When do you want me on your ship?”

_Now._

Now? Keith tensed, staring at the general. He was wearing his armor, and his regulation blaster was strapped to his side, but the rest of his belongings, including his sword, remained at his bunk. He shook his head – it was probably a short-term visit, then. “All right,” he said cautiously.

_Follow me._ Narti passed Keith and pressed her hand to the access pad. She led the way easily out of the processing center, navigating around the terminals, and then through the base to the docking center, as though she wasn’t entirely blind.

The short shuttle ride from the base to Narti’s ship was entirely silent. Keith was rather surprised that Narti herself took the controls to the shuttle, rather than having an appointed co-pilot. How could she see where she was going? Did she just set a trajectory and trust that nothing would go awry?

The ship docked inside the cruiser only ten doboshes after leaving the base. The hatch hissed open, and Narti waved for Keith to follow her. Not without trepidation, Keith fell in step alongside the general.

It was rare that he spent time on a cruiser, Prince Lotor’s army having a few older models available, and the pathways were unfamiliar to him. Narti turned down several corridors, then pressed her hand to the access pad at the end of the last hall, waving for Keith to go in without her. Somehow, despite his distrust in the general, Keith was loath to go in without her. Orders, however, were orders. He forced his ears to swivel to a neutral state and stepped through the door to a cavernous chamber, staring at the empty chair at the end of the room and flinching slightly as his exit closed behind him.

“Narti was right.” Keith jumped and whirled around to face the source of the voice behind him, in the corner of the room. “You do look more like a pure-blood galra than most of us half‑breeds.”

Keith stared, tongue-tied, as the figure emerged from the shadowy corner. He snapped his arm up in salute, staring at a face he had only ever seen in pictures, usually on recruitment posters. He was in the presence of _Prince Lotor himself._ “My Prince,” Keith managed to stutter out, his tongue unnaturally heavy in his mouth.

A smile crossed the prince’s handsome face, and he waved an elegant hand. “No need to stand on ceremony, Lieutenant Keith,” he said, taking a few easy steps forward and smiling down at Keith. “Will it offend you if we leave off titles and speak freely, while in this room? No one will need to know.”

The words barely registered, Keith’s mind foggy with complete bewilderment. “I… No, that’s, that’s fine,” he managed.

“Excellent.” Something about the Prince’s rich, free-flowing voice set Keith at ease, almost alarmingly so. “It’s an honor to meet the sort of gifted individual who can pass all of Narti’s tests. I trust you didn’t find them too terribly traumatic?”

Keith hesitated, wondering how far the offer to ‘speak freely’ extended. “With the exception of the time she almost walked me out an airlock, no,” he said carefully, ready to withdraw and apologize instantly if the Prince took offense.

Lotor raised an eyebrow. “She’s still doing that? I thought I asked her to change that one to something less disturbing.” He shook his head. “My deepest apologies, Keith.”

That… was surprising. A Field Martial should never, under any circumstances, apologize to a simple _lieutenant._ “I… There’s no need to apologize, sir,” Keith said awkwardly. He realized suddenly that his fist was still pressed against his chest in salute, and forced himself to lower his hand, watching carefully.

“It’s just Lotor, in here,” the prince corrected. “Ceremony and protocol have a way of obfuscating one’s true self. If all the people around me stand on ceremony and read from a script, how can I know who to trust, and who is planning to put a knife in my back?”

Keith wasn’t sure he followed, exactly, but it made sense in a way. “I see,” he said, eyeing the prince.

“You can relax, you know,” Lotor said, clasping his hands lightly in front of him. “This is an informal meeting. Call it a ‘get-to-know-you’ event, if you will.”

Sure, maybe he _could_ relax. Keith chose not to, remaining at attention. “General Narti said that this was a test,” he replied. Okay, maybe the test was meant to follow this meeting, but somehow, Keith doubted it.

Lotor’s smile slipped slightly. “A test?” He shook his head. “You’ll have to forgive Narti – she spent her first two hundred deca-phoebs as a subject of the druids. She tends to phrase most things in terms of testing. No, I’d rather you consider this an interview.”

Keith’s eyes widened, and he stared at Lotor in shock. Everyone knew of the druids, of course – a shadowy race of people under the control of Zarkon’s pet witch, Haggar. No one knew much about who they were or what they did – at least, no one who was stationed on the outskirts of the empire under Lotor knew, not unless they were very high-ranking. One of the few things Keith did know, that everyone knew, was that the druids were very possessive of their subjects, and no one sent to the druids ever returned. How had Narti gone from being their subject to being one of Lotor’s generals?

Lotor watched Keith closely, his eyes – which appeared to be half-breed eyes, a detail never depicted in recruitment posters, Keith thought to himself – boring into him. “You have questions,” he said calmly, a simple observation.

Keith grimaced. “Of course I have questions,” he said. “I have a lot of questions. I thought the druids didn’t let their subjects go.”

Lotor nodded, any semblance of a smile slipping from his face. “They don’t,” he affirmed. “It was through a simple loophole that I was able to rescue Narti and take her on as one of my generals.” He stared ahead, and Keith suddenly had the sense that even though Lotor was staring right at him, he no longer saw him. “I told her from the start that I was _not_ her master, and she did not have to stay with me or obey my orders. She chose to stay anyways, and earned her position as my most trusted advisor on sheer merit alone.” Lotor shook his head, his long mane of silver hair rustling at the movement, and looked back at Keith, his gaze suddenly focused, no longer so far away. “I trust Narti as I trust no other. If she is interested in you, then I am interested in you. You must be quite exceptional to have caught her attention, even before you began passing her tests.” He narrowed his eyes, his expression calculating, and stared at Keith. “Why don’t you tell me your story?”

Keith squared his shoulders, fighting the urge to hunch into himself under Lotor’s intense scrutiny. “I was originally assigned to Staff Sergeant Hasha’s squad as a private –”

“Not your military history,” Lotor interrupted. “I can access your files at any time if I want to track your military career. No, half-blood to half-blood,” he said, his lips twitching slightly, “I want to know what drove you to side with the Galra Empire.”

Keith drew back slightly, staring at the prince. Okay, so Lotor didn’t exactly look galra, but there was enough variation within the species that he was willing to buy that Lotor was just particularly furless despite his mane of head-hair, that he was just unusually small, that his eyes were an aberration. “You’re half-galra too?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. The idea had just… It had never occurred to him.

Lotor hummed an affirmation. “When I was born, for the first, oh, hundred fifty or so deca‑phoebs of my life, that was not a mark of shame,” he said. “Of course, I was only sixty deca-phoebs old when my father began his conquest of the empire, so I imagine it took some time for discrimination against us to settle in.” He chuckled, but he didn’t sound amused. “You’ll have to forgive me – I spent well over nine thousand deca-phoebs in cryostasis. I’m not sure exactly when this obsession with purity of species set in.”

Keith grimaced slightly. His relatively short lifespan was something he tended to forget. “I can’t be of much help with that,” he said dryly. “My other species is pretty short-lived. I’m only twenty deca‑phoebs myself.” It hadn’t bothered him until he was fifteen or so, and noticed his peers slowing in development, as he continued to grow and mature at a nearly-human rate. Turned out that while the galra aged quickly at first and then settled into slow adulthood for a thousand-or-so deca-phoeb lifespan, his development suggested that he’d be lucky to make a hundred fifty deca‑phoebs.

Lotor’s brow furrowed slightly. “Well, we can’t have that,” he remarked easily. “We’ll find a way to slow your aging to normal standards, whether or not you accept my offer.”

Keith frowned. “You haven’t made me an offer,” he pointed out.

“Well, of course not,” Lotor said calmly. “You haven’t told me why you joined with the empire. I can hardly make an offer without that knowledge.”

Keith grimaced. “What’s there to say? I was born on a planet with no inter-space travel or contact. I was found and taken in by the galra when I was only twelve deca-phoebs old. I didn’t have any other options but to go into boot camp as I was ordered.”

Lotor hummed. “And the planet of your non-galra parent – what was it like?”

Keith hesitated. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to think about his childhood for more than a passing memory. “Honestly, I don’t know,” he admitted. “My dad – my non-galra parent – kept me isolated for my own protection. After my mom left, he was the only person I ever saw or talked to,” he said. “From the books he brought me, I think most humans were pretty social. I couldn’t really be sure which books were realistic and which were complete fantasy, but reading kept me occupied. Dad came by whenever he could to make sure I was fed, and taken care of, and had things to do when he was gone.” Keith swallowed past a lump of nostalgia. Despite everything the empire had done for him, his fondest memories involved putting down his latest book to run greet his father at the door, going out on camping trips in the desert under the stars on the weekends, listening to stories about his dad’s week in the National Parks Service, and relaying anecdotes about the stories he’d read in his father’s absence.

“You never interacted with others of your other species?” Lotor asked quietly.

When would he have had the opportunity? Keith shook his head.  “Humans aren’t ready to deal with alien contact,” he said, remembering the warnings his father had given him. “They’d probably have made me some kind of test subject. So when – when my dad didn’t come back, I called for help with my mother’s device, and the empire intercepted it.”

“Intercepted?” Lotor asked softly.

Keith stiffened. “My mother was a traitor,” he said tightly. “She meant for the frequency to summon the Blade of Marmora. Luckily, the empire arrived first,” he said. Something like bitterness sparked at the thought, an anger he had carried since being taken into the empire, its origin one he couldn’t place. Was he angry that his mother was a traitor, or that her organization had left him for the empire?

It had to be the first, he reminded himself. How despicable – to be not only just half-galra, but the child of a traitor, to boot. Of course he resented her for her treachery.

“So,” Lotor said, interrupting Keith’s thoughts. “You joined the empire because you had no choice, then.”

Already tense, Keith found himself drawing even more tightly into himself. “I have no doubt that I would have chosen the empire, regardless,” he said cautiously, keeping his eyes on Lotor. “A choice was hardly necessary.”

Lotor huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Did I not ask you to speak freely?” he inquired mildly.

There was no right answer, and Keith knew it. “Why am I here?” he asked bluntly, eager to re‑direct the conversation. “You said I can speak freely,” he added as Lotor eyed him.

“But of course.” Lotor unclasped his hands and took a step forward. “Be honest with me please, Keith. Do you serve the empire because you believe in it, or because you have no other choice? I brought you here because I want to know. There will be no consequences for the ‘wrong’ answer.”

Keith froze, staring at Lotor. He knew the answer, he did. He couldn’t open his mouth. He couldn’t force himself to lie.

“If you were given a different option – a better option – would you take it?” Lotor pressed. Another step closer. One more step, and Keith would be within arm’s reach of the prince. Keith fought to regulate his breathing.

“Remember, Keith, there are no consequences for what you say, here,” Lotor coaxed, offering a gentle smile. “You could go so far as to advocate the assassination of the emperor, and not a breath about it would leave this room.”

Something in Keith crumpled. “I hate the way the empire works,” he admitted, staring at the ground. “Bringing in allies – I can support that. Telling entire worlds to join us or die or die – no, no, I can’t stand that. It’s not how to make allies. It’s not _fair.”_ He refused to meet Lotor’s eyes. “Join or die – that’s not a choice! And the way the empire treats planets that don’t accept its rule – it’s despicable. We don’t need to expand, we don’t need to keep slaves, we don’t _need most of these planets.”_ He had to shut up. He needed to silence himself – his words were already treasonous! And yet, they kept coming. “What even _is_ the end goal of the empire? To rule the entire universe? What’s the _point?”_

Lotor’s smile split into a full-fledged grin, and he took another step forward, dangerously close to Keith. “You’re not truly loyal to the empire, then, are you Keith?” he asked.

Keith froze, ice running down his spine. He had gone too far, and there was no coming back. “I,” he croaked, dropping his head to stare at his boots. He should have kept his mouth shut. If he was lucky, Lotor’s promise of a safe room and open communication would hold long enough for him to get somewhere safe and quickly slit his own throat, before he could be tortured to death. A part of him screamed in fury at the injustice that he’d die today, smaller than the part of him that shrieked that he was _stupid,_ that if he would have just shut up, he wouldn’t have signed his own death warrant.

“It’s all right.” Keith flinched as a warm hand gripped his chin gently, furless yet mammalian all at once. He forced himself to open his eyes and stared up, meeting Lotor’s gaze. “You’re dangerously open, when pressed, aren’t you?”

Keith closed his eyes and took a shallow breath, awaiting the burn of a blaster, the bite of a blade, or at least the cold, heavy sensation of cuffs around his wrists.

“I can hardly blame you,” Lotor murmured. “Tell me, Keith, have you ever had a friend in your life?”

Friend? Keith wanted to laugh at the term. “I’ve always been amicable with at least _some_ of my peers,” he said, keeping his eyes closed. He wished that Lotor wouldn’t draw this out.

Lotor hummed. “Not unusual, for us half-breeds,” he mused. “You’ll fit in well. I’ll send the orders to promote you to top general through Narti.”

It took a full tick or two for Lotor’s words to process, and then Keith’s head shot up, staring at Lotor. “Wait, _what?”_ he demanded.

“You heard me, Keith,” Lotor said, his smile widening. “I’ll brief you when I’ve fully assembled my team. For now… Let’s just say that I have a private project I wish to start, and I need allies of a certain caliber to assist me. Promoting my allies to the highest rank available will keep prying eyes from spying on us when we go on missions.”

Keith stared at Lotor for a long moment. “You’re joking,” he said finally.

“I assure you, Keith, I’m not,” Lotor said. “Is this truly surprising? Narti was immediately granted the rank of general, as soon as I freed her from the druid laboratories. I recently promoted my newest general, Acxa, from a Lieutenant’s rank. The two I plan to speak with next – one is a lieutenant, and one is a corporal. Trust me, the chain of command doesn’t apply when I want a particular soldier by my side.”

Keith gulped. “What… What exactly does this mean?” he asked carefully. He couldn’t handle troop movements on the scale of a general – he could barely keep up with the files as a lieutenant. If Lotor expected him to be able to track and coordinate movements off the official files, he would only crash and burn.

Lotor chuckled. “Relax, Keith,” he said. “I’m granting you and the others the rank of general so you can accompany me without turning heads. You’ll be far too busy to take on ordinary general duties when working with me, I assure you.”

Keith shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

Lotor shrugged. “You’ll understand eventually. I assume you know that your superior officers find you highly capable, and I am inclined to agree. Of course, Narti’s judgement speaks highly of your character. And from our interview today, I have a hunch that one day, I might even trust you.” His expression softened slightly. “This is, of course, contingent on you accepting my offer. If you wish to continue your military career along a standard path, I am certain that you will easily make general without my assistance. Of course, if you take that path, I’ll have to ensure you don’t remember this conversation before I let you return to base.”

Not terribly likely that he’d make general, Keith thought to himself. With his lifespan, he’d be lucky to make major. And the idea that Lotor had a way to somehow erase his memory was somewhat unnerving. “Your offer,” he began, regarding the prince warily. “What’s the catch?”

Lotor’s lips twisted slightly. “Well, you’d be separated from the main command,” he said. “You wouldn’t have the normal military experience – instead of taking charge of a battalion yourself, you’d work directly with me and my other high generals. It’s hardly the typical experience of a general. No subordinates, just partners.” He folded his hands behind his back – nervous body language, a part of Keith’s mind supplied. Interesting. “And when the rest of my team is fully assembled, I will be promoting a new traditional general to replace Narti, so she can join the team – which means you may only have a movement or so to work past any air-lock related trauma,” he said dryly.

Keith blinked. That – that had been a joke. “I see,” he said. “That seems… reasonable.”

Lotor inclined his head briefly. “Do you accept my offer, then?” he asked.

What did Keith have to lose? “I… yes,” he said, nodding. “I accept your offer.”

Lotor’s eyes softened further, even as his smile widened. “I’ll have some of my sentries fetch your belongings from your quarters on base,” he said, allowing his arms to relax at his side. “And I will have another one show you to your new quarters on the ship. Be advised – apart from myself and my generals, all personnel aboard the ship are sentries. Privacy – I’m sure you can understand.”

Keith hadn’t had privacy since he was twelve years old. “Sounds good,” he said, his mind whirling. He brought his arm up in salute. “Vrep–”

“Please, don’t,” Lotor said, waving an elegant hand and grimacing. “Back in its day, ‘vrepit sa’ actually meant something. It’s almost painful to hear it spoken as some sort of military salute.”

Keith narrowed his eyes, his fur rising slightly with distrust. “What did it mean, back in ‘it’s day?’” he asked.

Something akin to sadness crossed Lotor’s face. “It meant something along the lines of ‘there is a purpose to your suffering.’ It became popularized in the deca-phoebs after the destruction of planet Daibazaal. By the time I came out of cryostasis, it had lost all meaning.”

There were two stories there, Keith thought. Of course he knew that the galran homeworld had been destroyed thousands of deca-phoebs ago – everyone knew that. Had Lotor been born there? If he’d spent time in cryostasis – another tidbit of information that generated far too many questions – then that could explain how he was still alive after so many thousands of deca-phoebs.

“How should I salute you then, sir?” Keith asked cautiously.

“The gesture is more than sufficient,” Lotor said easily. “It was the standard salute when I was younger.”

Keith nodded, and lowered his arm. A look of approval crossed Lotor’s face. “The sentry outside the door should be ready to take you to your new quarters,” he said.

“Understood,” Keith replied. The standard _vrepit sa_ lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he kept his mouth shut. He’d just have to hope this wasn’t yet another _test._

He turned and pressed his hand to the access panel, gulping down nerves as he looked at the sentry in the doorway. The sentry stood stock-still for a few ticks, then turned, its mechanical joints whirring as it led the way down the halls of the ship, to the officers’ quarters. The route the sentry took was complicated and took numerous turns and side-paths, and Keith made a mental note to pull the schematics of the cruiser as soon as he had the time. He’d rather not be forced to rely on mechanical servants to find his way around. It had taken him barely a quintant to memorize the base when he’d been stationed there – the cruiser was slightly smaller than the base, and couldn’t possibly be as complex.

The sentry stopped in front of an access pad and gestured with one of its mechanical hands. Keith frowned, but pressed his hand to the access pad.

**I N I T I A T E   D N A   S C A N.** Keith nearly jumped back, startled, but kept his hand pressed to the pad.   **S C A N   C O M P L E T E.   Q U A R T E R S   L O C K E D   T O   L I E U T E N A N T   K E I T H ‘ S   O V E R R I D E.**

The doors hissed open, and Keith’s jaw dropped. The room was easily four times the size of his lieutenant’s quarters, which he had always shared with at least one roommate, and sometimes a visiting off-world officer. He’d known that generals were high-ranked enough to receive fairly excessive privileges, but even stripped to the bare-bones as these quarters were, this was opulence he had never seen. He was certain, looking at a glance, that his bed was big enough for at least two, maybe even three, individuals to share. An expansive private terminal stood in the corner of the room, a luxury Keith could never have anticipated. And the floor space – nearly large enough to be a small practice arena in itself! Keith itched for his sword, just looking at it. He stepped into his quarters, staring in awe. One internal door opened onto a large storage space, and the other opened into a private washroom, an extravagance Keith had never expected to experience.

It was all too much. Keith collapsed, stunned, on his oversized bed, sitting down and staring at the wide-open space around him. He could make do with a fraction of the space and still fit everything he owned of this room. The wide-open space was just so _strange,_ so unexpected.

He’d always trained on training decks, and he knew he would continue to do so, but as he stared at the oversized room, he knew he would also train here. Almost on instinct, his mind began writing out the best patterns to jump and dance and parry his way around the open space of the room. Maybe he could install some sort of artificial terrain program to train with both cover and obstacles, with his hypothetical opponent also having the opportunity to seek cover and put obstacles before him. The possibilities were endless. Keith wondered if any of these other generals had studied swordsmanship and would be willing to train with him. Or maybe he could get permission to program one of the sentries with competent swordsmanship?

He managed a few vargas of restless sleep before a sentry disturbed him with relentless requests for door access, only to deposit his sword and a small bag of belongings with him before exiting. He checked the timestamp on his communicator after the sentry left – 22:00 vargas. He really should get some more sleep.

But his stomach was still in knots from the sudden turn of events, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep again. Keith rose and made his way to the terminal in the corner, narrowing his eyes and picking through the galran script until he found a map of the ship.

The nearest training room was just down the hall, a slight left from the corridor that held the officers’ quarters. Keith donned his undersuit and strapped his sword to his waist. Going up against drones, he shouldn’t need his armor.

The doors to the training room hissed open, and Keith startled slightly as an unexpected occupant turned to face him, her eyes wide. “End training session,” she ordered, even as she stowed her blaster at her hip. The three sentries she’d been fighting all stopped, then stepped to the back of the room in tandem. “Keith, is it?” the figure asked.

Warily, Keith made his way into the room. “That’s me,” he said carefully. Lotor had said that the ship was fully staffed by sentries, apart from his generals. He’d also only mentioned one general apart from Narti. “You’re Acxa, right?” he asked carefully, his fur rising slightly as he met her eyes. It was strange – he had never met a galra so short, other than himself. The figure before him only outstripped his height by a few inches, at most. He catalogued that with the rest of her appearance. Mammalian, but with no fur on the majority of her nearly-blue body, and with typically-reptilian ridges rising from her head. Half-breed eyes, expressionless ears.

Acxa nodded. “I assumed we would meet tomorrow,” she said, eyeing Keith warily. “Trouble sleeping?”

“Something like that.” In a sense, it put Keith at ease to realize that Acxa was just as wary of him as he was of her. “I figured I’d work off some steam.”

Acxa glanced from his sword to her blaster. “Do you want to spar?” she asked, her tone wholly neutral.

Keith shrugged. “I’m not sure our sparring styles will be compatible,” he said, eyeing her blaster.

“I don’t see your point,” Acxa said, bland-as-can-be. “I’ve sparred with many seemingly‑incompatible opponents in the past. If you’re good enough, you can still take them down.”

Keith bristled at the challenge. “Better make sure your blaster has a full charge,” he warned, falling back into stance and drawing his sword.

A look of calm, practiced determination settled on Acxa’s face. “I always do,” she said, drawing the weapon from her hip and firing in one fluid motion.

Keith leapt out of the way, dodging the blast with the ease of long practice and rushing at her. To his surprise, Acxa didn’t hold her ground the way most did when wielding a blaster; instead, she drew the weapon in tight like a sword, dodging Keith’s strike and parrying his blade with her blaster. Huh. Interesting technique – Keith had never seen anything like it. He grinned, adrenaline surging as he drew back slightly, assessing his opponent. She was versatile, adapting her style to her opponent – whichever of them won, he was pretty sure he’d end up asking her for tips for future sparring matches. It had been a long time since he’d fought an opponent who challenged him.

Acxa seized Keith’s pause to fire a shot and then lunge forward as he dodged, again driving her blaster against his blade. Almost too-late, Keith realized the blaster muzzle was aimed directly at his feet and leapt up and forward, sweeping his sword out of the way and throwing his weight at her. Acxa stumbled, nearly going down, and Keith swung the sword towards her, the blade whiffing through her hair as she barely managed to duck and slide with a single fluid motion across the floor and come up behind him. Keith whirled around and parried her next blast with his sword, his teeth clacking together painfully as the energy bolt sent a flare of electricity crackling through his veins.

Acxa’s eyes narrowed, and she fired again. This time, Keith was prepared, and rather than deflecting the blast, he leapt to the side, the tip of his sword catching her leg even as she twirled out of the way. Acxa hissed, iridescent eyes seeming to flare slightly as a trickle of blue blood leaked from the tear in her undersuit. Keith filed that away as another tidbit – like himself, she bled a color other than purple.

It was a relief, in many ways, to spar against another half-blood. The drive to win was still present, but the desperate need to prove himself, to show his worth to the peers who mocked and belittled him, was absent. Keith hadn’t even thought of victory in those terms in deca-phoebs, but with another half-blood, that motivation was absent. What would she do, if he lost – belittle and shun him for being a mongrel? She was one herself. It was strange, to think he could assume his opponent would be honorable and not resort to petty mockery.

Dodge and slice, parry and thrust. The shots from her blaster singed his fur and skin, while the nicks and cuts from his sword drew trickles and streams of blue blood from her. Even when Keith finally found himself flat on his back, his sword knocked from his hand halfway across the training room, Acxa’s boot on his chest and her blaster pressed against his forehead – he still couldn’t find it in himself to be resentful. It had been a close match. Keith raised his hands carefully. “Yield,” he said, letting his lips curl upward. “Good match.”

Acxa offered a small smile in return as she withdrew her blaster and removed her foot from his chest, taking a step backwards. “You surprised me,” she commented, leaning over and extending a hand. Keith grasped her forearm and allowed Acxa to help him to his feet. “People who harp on compatible training styles don’t usually do well when sparring with someone who uses a different technique.”

Keith retrieved his sword and rolled his head back and forth, his neck popping as the tension released. “I didn’t get to spar much, back at base,” he admitted. “There were only a few other sword-users, so I had to spar with other people from time to time.” He snorted. “When I could find someone who wanted to spar with me, that is.”

Acxa nodded agreeably. “My base saw a lot of turnover,” she said. “I got plenty of sparring in with the new personnel who thought they’d get any easy victory by taking on the base mongrel.”

Keith nodded. “Mine didn’t want to give the base mongrel the time of day,” he said, trying to keep bitterness from seeping into his voice.

Acxa regarded him for a long moment. “We should make a habit of this,” she said.

“Sparring?” Keith asked, raising his brows.

“Sure,” Acxa said. “Especially if Pr – if Lotor does bring on other generals. Team sparring could be… enlightening.”

Something in Keith tensed at the mention of Lotor. “Right,” he said. “He’s planning to bring on two other generals, right?” he asked.

“Two others, and then bring back General Narti,” Acxa said, her brow furrowing.

Interesting reaction. “Did Narti test you by trying to space you, too?” Keith asked.

Acxa stared at him, wide-eyed. “What? No,” she said. “No, she made me raid the armory and set off a bomb that would have taken out the entire base. I barely broke free in time to disarm it.”

Keith laughed darkly. “She was going to have me walk myself out an airlock with no helmet or deep-space armor. I barely broke her control in time.”

Acxa shook her head. “Of course, she would have disarmed the bomb herself if I didn’t get free,” she said, glancing at Keith.

Keith nodded in response. “And apparently, she wasn’t going to _actually_ let me open the airlock and space myself,” he said dryly.

Acxa narrowed her eyes and stared at him for several ticks. “Once we’re both promoted, we should enact some payback,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “If we’re all the same rank, we’re unlikely to get in trouble.”

Keith stared at her, meeting her eyes for several ticks. “That…” Honestly, it was extremely tempting, he had to admit. “Let’s see what these other two generals have to say,” he said finally.

“Naturally,” Acxa said agreeably. She holstered her weapon and shook her head, wiping the sweat that beaded oddly at her brow. Keith grimaced, the action alerting him to the way his fur was plastered unpleasantly to his face. He wiped futilely at his face, and resolved to take a shower before collapsing into his oversized bed.

Acxa passed Keith on her way to the door. She pressed her hand to the access panel, then turned her head slightly to look back at him. “See you in the mess, tomorrow,” she said.

“Yeah, see you,” Keith echoed. He took another few ticks to make a futile effort to clean the sweat from his face, before reluctantly surrendering. At least he had a private washroom, he thought to himself. It would be nice to catch a shower after every training, instead of just hoarding water packets and towels to keep his fur presentable.

The shower was soothing, warm and comfortable water soaking the aches from training, carrying the sweat gently from his fur. The showers on base were cold and harsh, designed to promote maximum efficiency. This –

This was almost as nice as the bath in his home on Earth. It was rare that Keith indulged himself in those memories, but locked safely alone in a private shower, he could let himself reminisce. Warm water lapping at his limbs as his mother bathed his chubby body, singing in the galran language that he didn’t understand at the time as she washed him clean. Turning on the warm spray and stoppering the tub, huddling in the warmth while he waited for his father to come home to him. The luxury of standing under the spray and letting his head fall back, consumed by warm water, no restrictions, no sergeant barking at him to _“stop wasting precious resources, cadet!”_

Tears built in his eyes and spilled over his face. Keith allowed them to fall, washed away by the warm spray around him, as he let bittersweet memory take hold for a while. Only when he was sure the tears were no longer falling did he cut the flow of water and exit the shower, pressing a button on the wall to send a blast of hot air through the room, drying him almost instantly.

Once dried, Keith exited the washroom and zeroed in on his bag by the door, easily finding his soft, worn sleep-uniform. The garment had holes at both knees and was too long in both the arms and the legs, but it had been a constant since he had become part of the Galra Empire. Swathed in his sleep-uniform and worn out from sparring, he stumbled easily to his oversized bed, muttering the command to dim the lights as soon as his head connected with the oddly detachable pillow.

For the first time in as many deca-phoebs as he could remember, he woke well-rested, without any dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, Lotor has finally shown up. Now we can get the ball rolling!
> 
> Credit goes to Wisttic for the meaning of vrepit sa, as that is his personal headcanon that I borrowed. Thank you for making every "vrepit stfu" joke I have ever made seem highly insensitive.
> 
> I hope that those of you who celebrate holidays at this time of year have a fantastic time!


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezor and Zethrid arrive on the ship. Keith spars with Lotor.

Knowledge that the next general had been promoted filtered through the ship by the end of the next quintant, and two quintants later, the final one had been promoted. Narti’s lateral move to the team was entirely expected – Keith had to imagine that Castrack’s promotion to general in her stead came as a surprise to the chain of command, but it was no longer his problem.

Still, as the movement closed, both he and Acxa agreed that it was odd that neither of them had encountered these two other generals.

“It seems strange,” Acxa said, applying salve to Keith’s back after a sparring session where she had roundly beaten him into the ground. He’d beaten her a few times since their first initial session, but this time she’d suggested they fight without weapons, and it had taken Keith only a few doboshes to realize that he was outmatched. She’d had to help him back to his room, but had also agreed to help him with hand-to-hand, soothing his wounded pride. “I knew your name and file before you’d even agreed to become a general. Now, we’re supposed to have two others, and neither of us know anything.”

Keith nodded, then grimaced as vertigo set his stomach off. “I’m sure we’ll meet them soon,” he managed, then closed his mouth, swallowing rapidly to keep from vomiting. Acxa had kneed him several times in the gut in rapid succession, and his stomach was busy trying to reject any reminder of their last interaction. Keith grimaced, rapidly sucking down spit to force his body to maintain equilibrium.

Acxa took a step back and rubbed her hands on one of Keith’s many towels. “You should go shower,” she said, eyeing his sweat-encrusted fur with mild disgust. Keith was more than used to it, by now – his full‑body set of sweat glands had been a source of mockery all through boot camp, and Keith couldn’t even be angry at his peers for that. He nodded at her and exited the room, acutely aware that the doors took a tick longer to close than usual.

Interesting.

The delay to the doors to his room – it could be a ship-wide situation. Keith frowned, gathering up his spare clothes and locking them in the washroom with him before stepping into the shower. The ship probably needed to recalibrate, with two new inhabitants and Narti as a full-time resident. It was still unnerving.

Washed clean from the sparring session and with the full-body effects of the salve taking effect, Keith dressed easily in his flight-suit. He pressed his hand to the access pad and exited into his quarters, only to draw back sharply as he met the gaze of the orange-faced being settled on his bed.

“You’re back!” the figure chirped, grinning at him.

Keith yelped, instinctively launching himself at the figure, who leapt lightly to her feet and dodged. “That’s not very friendly,” she chided, dodging his next swing.

Keith growled and seized his unsheathed sword in one fluid motion, launching at the figure and pinning her against the wall, his sword at her throat. “Who _are_ you?” he demanded furiously.

The girl raised her hands, none of the humor leaving her expression. “I’m Ezor,” she said easily. “One of the two generals brought on today? Gotta say, it was a surprised to be an enlisted soldier one moment, then poof!” The figure vanished, and Keith drew back, staring wildly around the room.

A hand came down on his shoulder, and he whirled around, staring wildly into Ezor’s eyes. “Poof, here I am, a general instead of a corporal. Zarkon on the Throne, was _that_ a surprise!” Her eyes glistened merrily. “Our last test was an infiltration. You know, I’m not actually sure who won, between the two of us. Sure, I got into your room just fine, but you did manage to get your sword at my throat.”

In the distance, something like a roar sounded. Ezor’s eyes widened. “Well, forget us – let’s go make sure Zethrid doesn’t kill your friend!”

Wha –

Keith yelped in shock as the strange, colorful half-breed seized his hand and nearly vaulted out the door, which opened for her automatically, bypassing the door protocols completely. Ezor’s hand dug bruisingly into his as she whipped through the corridors, making her way to Acxa’s room, where the door was stuck half-ajar, the remains of a sentry smoking in the doorway.

Ezor pried the door open, and Keith went rigid at the sight before him, an enormous, oddly-colored galra practically pinning Acxa down, a dangerous-looking stake of metal bowing against Acxa’s blaster. “Get off her!” Keith yelled before he could stop himself.

The galra turned with a growl, and face-to-face, Keith suddenly realized this was another half-galra. What were the names Lotor had given him? Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid. So this was Zethrid? He gripped his sword and prepared to run at her as Zethrid pulled back her improvised pipe-weapon and cracked Acxa over the head with it.

“Zethrid, stop!” Ezor said, wrenching her hand from Keith’s grasp and taking a few steps forward. “Remember, this is one of the generals we’re supposed to befriend!”

The enormous figure stopped, then burst out laughing. “Don’t worry – I wasn’t actually going to kill her!” Zethrid crowed, setting down her makeshift weapon. “I think this counts as a win for me, this time,” the enormous hybrid said, gesturing at Acxa who stirred weakly, unconscious.

Keith frowned, uncertain. “Were you guys… supposed to knock either of us out?” he asked warily, his eyes flicking between her and Ezor. Ezor grinned at him, then flickered out of sight. If Keith concentrated, he could just barely see a hazy outline of disrupted air.

Zethrid shrugged, her face splitting into a grin. “We were just told to infiltrate and see what happens,” she said. “And this opponent held her own like a true warrior!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Delightful, to face an actual challenge – I don’t hold a grudge, even after defeating her. I look forward to sparring with her in training!”

Keith swallowed hard. “Well, try not to kill any of us, in training,” he said, tightening his grip on his sword.

Zethrid chuckled. “Nah, I can hold back when sparring. I’ll just knock you to the ground and choke you unconscious,” she said. Somehow, Keith wasn’t comforted.

Maybe he should find Zethrid’s dedication admirable, he thought.  He ducked passed her and knelt, pressing two fingers to the junction between Acxa’s jaw and throat. Her pulse fluttered – easily alive, if out cold. That was good. She should be fine after a short stay in the med-bay.

“Zethrid, did you have to go so hard?” Keith jumped as Ezor materialized right next to him. “You know Pri – You know that Lotor set aside a few phoebs for us to train with the other generals. We don’t have to start fighting them right away.”

Keith snorted, shaking his head even as he drew Ezor’s and Zethrid’s attention. “What?” Ezor asked lightly, smiling at Keith.

Keith shook his head. “Maybe we should save fights for the training deck,” he offered as Acxa stirred weakly beneath his hands.

“Our enemies won’t wait for the training deck,” Zethrid pointing out, drawing herself up to her full height. Keith swallowed hard, craning his neck to meet her gaze, a full foot above is own. “We need to be ready to fight at all times! I caught her by surprise – she can learn from that.”

Acxa mumbled something indistinct. Keith stilled as she twitched under his hands, her eyes slitting open, her hands seeking the ground.

Ezor socked Zethrid lightly. “Okay, but maybe we should get to know our new friends before attacking them unexpectedly,” she said. “Hi! I’m Ezor, and this is Zethrid. We were recruited and promoted in tandem. Nice to meet you! Future attacks might come without warning.”

Keith blinked at her, then looked down at Acxa, still half-conscious beside him. “You might want to repeat that when she’s actually awake,” he suggested dryly.

Ezor nodded. “Sorry. Narti suggested that we surprise you – she was worried you were getting complacent.”

Keith fought back the urge to groan and slam his face into something. Of course this was _Narti’s_ idea. Narti and her tests. “I’m Keith,” he said, glaring at the orange girl and her huge companion. “This is Acxa. And you two are the new generals, I guess.”

Zethrid inclined her enormous head, and Ezor nodded eagerly. “Promoted at the same time!” she said cheerfully. “We’ll have an interesting time on the training deck, when Zethrid and I know how you fight. I can show you how to take out opponents with natural cloaking.” She grinned, then vanished from sight once again. As before, Keith could just barely make out some sort of hazy outline, and then it darted behind him. Keith barely had a moment to whirl around and try to find that disruption again before she tapped him on the shoulder and materialized directly behind him in her original position, grinning. “See?”

Keith spun and slammed the flat of his sword into her side. Ezor stumbled back several feet, her eyes wide; she leaned forward, heaving in deep gulps of air. “G…good counter,” she managed, coughing. “Note to… self, don’t under… underestimate Keith.” She coughed again then hauled herself upright, her shoulders straightening as she met Keith’s eyes. “Nice hit,” she said.

Keith nodded. “You need to work on your dodges,” he said, eyeing her. “Looks like you’re fine as long as you expect the counter-tactic, but anything you don’t expect sends you down hard.”

Zethrid chuckled. “You’re all right, short-stuff,” she said, folding her muscled arms across her chest. “What’ve I been saying since boot camp, huh, Ezor?” she asked, smirking.

“Geez, usually just stuff about wrecking your enemies and blowing things up,” Ezor retorted, pressing a thumb against her injured side and grimacing.

Keith narrowed his eyes. “You two were in boot camp together?” he asked.

Zethrid snorted. “And it’s a good thing too,” she said. _“Someone_ had to keep Ezor from getting beaten into the ground by the other cadets.”

Keith wondered, suddenly, what boot camp would have been like if he’d had a fellow half-breed around. It probably would have been a lot less terrible, he thought bitterly.

Nearby, Acxa groaned and sat up, pressing one hand to her head. “What…” she muttered, blinking blearily.

Keith moved just in time to keep her from launching to her feet, and probably making herself sick in the process. “Hey, don’t move just yet,” he ordered. “You took a pretty good hit to the head.”

Acxa’s eyes were wide and slightly unfocused, sliding from Keith to the other figures in the room. Her pupils were different sizes, Keith noted. Yeah, she needed to go to the med-bay.

“I…” Acxa began, then frowned. “Keith? What?”

“Guess I got you pretty good.” Keith tensed as Zethrid dropped to a crouch beside Acxa, extending her large hand. “Name’s Zethrid. Sorry for the rough introduction.”

Acxa blinked several times, then narrowed her eyes at Zethrid. “You,” she hissed.

“Wow. You do _not_ look so good.” Ezor’s long, striped head-tail dangled in Keith’s face as she leaned over to assess Acxa’s condition. “Maybe we should get her to the med-bay,” she added, raising her brows as she looked at Zethrid, who at least had the sense to look somewhat contrite.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Keith agreed, slinging one of Acxa’s arms around his shoulder. He staggered to his feet, grunting slightly – Acxa wasn’t heavy in any sense of the word, but carrying another person was always awkward.

“Here, let me help.” Ezor slid seamlessly underneath Acxa’s other arm and then straightened. “Okay, so, lead the way to the med-bay.”

Keith froze. Where… where exactly was the med-bay located? “I’m… I’m not sure where it is,” he admitted.

“Are you two serious?” Zethrid demanded. “Ezor, we’ve been here for nearly a movement! Short-stuff, you’ve been here even longer! How do you not know where the med-bay is?”

Keith bristled slightly at the nickname, his ears folding back. “My name is _Keith,”_ he growled. “And I haven’t needed to use the med-bay.”

Zethrid snorted. “Then you’re not training hard enough,” she said. “I’ve already been twice. Try sparring with Gen– with Narti. That tail of hers packs a wallop!” She dusted her hands on her armor as she rose. “It’s not too far from the training deck.”

“Don’t need the med-bay,” Acxa muttered, her feet dragging on the ship’s floor as Keith and Ezor followed Zethrid down the halls of the ship.

“You really do,” Ezor said. “I think you have a concussion.”

_“No,”_ Acxa protested, jerking as she struggled to get her feet underneath her.

Keith tightened his grip on her arm. “It’ll take maybe five doboshes,” he pointed out. “Just go with us.”

Acxa’s brow furrowed, and she pressed her lips together in a thin line, but reluctantly allowed Keith and Ezor to carry her the rest of the way to the med-bay.

The doors hissed open at the barest touch of Zethrid’s hand to the access panel. Keith and Ezor carried Acxa inside, and Keith took a moment to look around as they lifted her onto a flat metal stretcher. Standard med-bay – stretchers, various shelves for ointments and poultices and bandages, adjustable lighting. Rather than the medical technicians Keith was used to, several sentries seemed to man the space.

Keith went to withdraw, only for Acxa to reach out, lightning-fast, and seize his arm with both hands, her claws digging uncomfortably into his skin. “You made me come here,” she hissed. “Don’t you _dare_ leave me alone in this place.”

A chill ran down Keith’s spine, even as the blood warmed slightly in his veins. Acxa’s expression, a combination of schooled terror and helpless fury, set off all sorts of warning flares in Keith’s mind. He took a step forward and laid a hand on her shoulder as one of the sentries approached, clutching a scanner in its mechanical hand. “You’re just here to get fixed up,” he said, forcing himself to maintain a flat affect.

“That’s what they always say,” Acxa snarled through gritted teeth. The sentry pressed the scanner to her temple, and Acxa’s claws sank deeper into Keith’s arm, drawing tiny pinpricks of blood.

“S C A N   C O M P L E T E.   C O N C U S S I O N   D E T E C T E D,” the sentry droned. It turned and made its way to the storage shelves, pulling out a bag of greenish fluid and an injector. Acxa went rigid as the sentry filled the injector with fluid, then marched back over. “P R E S E N T   A R M.”

Acxa closed her eyes, her brow furrowing, but let go of Keith and held out her arm, the limb vibrating with tension. The sentry artlessly rolled up the sleeve of her flight-suit and pressed the injector against her flesh, deploying the healing nanites with quick efficiency. Even after the sentry let go, Acxa remained rigid, her arm outstretched.

Something unpleasant coiled in Keith’s gut, a sense of unease. “Acxa, it’s over,” he said quietly. “You can get up, if you want.” The nanites would take care of the concussion within a varga at most, and would probably heal her residual sparring injuries to boot. Why was she sitting there like she was expecting pain?

Acxa’s eyes squinted open as she drew her arm back to her body and turned to face Keith. “That’s it?” she said, sounding surprised.

“Well, yeah,” Ezor piped up from the other side of the stretcher. “It was just a concussion. Pretty standard stuff, you know?”

Acxa leapt from the stretcher and spun around at that, narrowing her eyes at Ezor. “Who are you, anyways?” she demanded. Her gaze then landed on Zethrid, and she stilled. _“You,”_ she spat.

“Yeah, me – again,” Zethrid said, shrugging. “Sorry – didn’t mean to give you a concussion. The name’s Zethrid. Ezor here and I are the two new generals.”

Acxa shot a glance at Keith, who shrugged, raising his hands. “I’m pretty sure it’s true,” he said, wincing as her look of suspicion shifted into a glower. “Hey, this isn’t _my_ fault! Apparently Narti told them to infiltrate our rooms so we wouldn’t get complacent.”

“She did,” Ezor agreed. “And knocking the target out _wasn’t_ part of the orders,” she added, aiming a reproving glare at Zethrid.

Zethrid shot Ezor a wounded look. “Our orders were to _win._ A successful invasion doesn’t count if you don’t pacify the target!”

“Enough!” Acxa shouted, her hands clenched into fists, trembling with rage. “If what you’re saying is true,” she snapped, “then I would like to have a talk with _Narti.”_

Keith stared, aghast, as Acxa stormed out of the med-bay, allowing the doors to snap shut behind her. He’d seen her frustrated, or upset, even angry – those sorts of emotions tended to come up during and after sparring.

This… This was new. This was personal. This was the sort of thing that cut deep – Keith would know. You didn’t survive in the Army by yelling at former commanding officers.

“Should we go after her?” Zethrid asked as the silence stretched on.

Frustrated, Keith ran a hand through his hair. “Do we have a choice?” he asked.

“Good point,” Zethrid said, stepping forward to open the door. “Do you know how to find Narti’s quarters, or do I have to do everything around here?” she asked, her lips quirking up in a tiny smile.

Screw that. Keith pushed past her and stalked down the halls, heading for Narti’s quarters. Hopefully they could head off Acxa before she did something dumb.

It took only a few doboshes to reach Narti’s quarters. Keith pressed his hand to the access pad, but was unsurprised when a red “Access Denied” message flared in response. The level of privacy on this ship was almost unnerving. He rapped hard on the doors instead, grimacing as pain flared through his knuckles upon contact with the hard metal. “Narti?” he called. “Acxa?”

The door hissed open, and Keith burst through the entryway, Ezor and Zethrid hot on his heels. Acxa stood across from Narti, her hands balled into fists. Narti, for her part, was expressionless as always, though she turned her blank face towards the newcomers. Kova, curled on Narti’s pillow, raised his head to assess Keith and the others as the door hissed shut behind him.

_Now that we’re all here, perhaps this conversation can actually be productive._ Narti’s thoughts were uncharacteristically clipped, and from the rage in Acxa’s eyes and the purple flush that had risen in her cheeks, Keith was pretty sure that Acxa had been yelling.

“Productive,” Acxa hissed. “Sending a fellow general – someone I’m supposed to trust – to land me in the _med-bay –_ how is that _productive?”_

_It’s not._ Narti turned slightly towards Acxa. _Though it did have the side-effect of teaching you that this med-bay is not like the one on your former base._

Keith frowned. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Yeah, I want answers too,” Ezor butted in. “You said this was a test for them, but what part of it was a test for us?”

_You assume there was a test for you?_

“Well, yeah,” Ezor said in response. “It’s always a test with you. That’s how you work, right? You test people.”

Narti inclined her head. _None of you passed this test._ Keith took a step back at her words, his claws unsheathing, even though he couldn’t detect any malice in her thoughts. _That’s understandable. It’s the last test I give you before we become true equals, and no one has ever gotten far enough to undergo this trial._

“Can you cut to the point?” Zethrid rumbled.

Kova fixed his gaze on Zethrid, and Narti turned to face her. _I gave you orders. You followed them unquestioningly._

Zethrid narrowed her eyes, tensing slightly. “Yeah?” she snapped. “What’s your point?”

Narti folded her arms across her chest, her tail twitching slowly from side to side. _Zethrid and Ezor followed my orders. Keith accepted their choice to follow my orders as fact. Acxa sought me out to confront me for the actions of Zethrid and Ezor._

Keith grimaced, clenching his fists. “Would you get to the point?” he snapped. “Your orders landed Acxa in the med-bay! They didn’t exactly give us all a good first impression of each other!”

_That’s correct._ Narti nodded at him. _You followed my orders, and it went badly. Why, exactly, did you follow my orders?_

Beside him, both Zethrid and Ezor stilled. “They… they were orders,” Zethrid said finally.

_Were they? I am not your superior officer._

Ezor swallowed hard. “Yeah, but you’ve been a general the longest. You have seniority. A _lot_ of deca-phoebs of seniority.”

_There are Majors who have been in the army longer than their Commanders. Do they outrank them? We have the same rank._ Narti uncrossed her arms. _This is why you failed. Ezor and Zethrid, you treated me as a commander rather than a peer. Keith, you accepted my word as law, instead of questioning me. Acxa, you sought me out to blame for the actions of others, instead of holding them accountable._

Keith took a deep, shaky breath, as if the world hadn’t caved in somewhat around him. Intellectually, it was one thing to be the same rank as Narti, but to be chastised for deferring to her? Any other officer he knew would take it as a compliment. But Narti – she seemed legitimately disappointed.

_The military is known for brainwashing._ Something smoothed the edges of her thoughts, almost comforting. Narti took a step forward and rested a gentle hand on Acxa’s shoulder. _I am sorry you had to learn this way – and I am sorry to have put you through this. Lotor values independent thought from his generals. I understand that this may take time._

Keith shivered, staring at Narti. As if acknowledging his stare, Narti turned her blank face to him. _We’re peers now,_ she reminded him.

Keith nodded, unsure of what to say. Some tension in the air lessened, and when Narti gestured towards the door, none of her thoughts invaded his mind. At a glance, she stood slightly slumped – did communicating telepathically take energy, or something?

Regardless, Keith was glad to stumble away from Narti’s quarters with the other generals. “Well, that was a total debacle,” Ezor complained as Narti’s door slid closed. “We completely messed that up. At least there was a lesson, in that?”

Zethrid rumbled her agreement. “She’s right. We’re all equals, now.”

“Looks like it,” Keith agreed, pressing a palm to his forehead. Good – he wasn’t sweating, despite the intense events of the past few vargas. He didn’t want to take another shower and wash the sweat from his fur twice in one day.

“If we’re speaking as equals,” Acxa said, straightening, “never take me to the med-bay again, unless I am _comatose._ I’d rather suffer.”

Keith was sure that his frown was identical to the expressions that crossed Ezor’s and Zethrid’s faces, but he nodded his assent regardless.

Acxa nodded and straightened, hard as glass as she glared at them. “I’m going to take some time on the training deck,” she said. “If any you come to the training deck, start your own program. I don’t want to spar with any of you tonight.”

Something about that sat bitter with Keith, but he nodded his assent. He couldn’t blame Acxa for preferring the predictability of the sentries, or the satisfaction of taking down a programmed enemy. After the stressful events of the evening, he couldn’t fault her for wanting to blow off some steam.

Keith took the time, after re-entering his quarters, to sync his access pad with all life forms present on the ship and block out everyone but himself – he had no desire for Ezor to sneak back in. Secure in his room, he fell back to his computer terminal and pulled the records of his fellow generals, limited as they were. The more he knew about them, the better.

* * *

Rarely, in the next few movements, did Keith find himself alone. One of the other generals, Narti included, could almost always be found on the training deck. Deca-phoebs of habit had him sliding into the mess alongside at least one other general for meal-times. He could find solitude when he locked himself in his room with the computer terminal and a determination to improve his galran reading comprehension, but even then, he could only take so much of that before he needed to seek out external stimulus, some sort of interaction with the other generals.

He was alone on the training deck in the early hours of the standard quintant, his timepiece reading 0300 vargas, when the doors hissed unexpectedly open and Prince Lotor entered the room. Keith startled, nearly dropping his sword. “End training simulation!” he barked, relaxing slightly as the six sentries around him collapsed, leaving him essentially alone in the chamber with Lotor. “Sir,” he added, fighting the urge to drop his weapon and salute. He’d barely broken the need to salute whenever he encountered Narti, and from her interactions with Lotor, he was fairly certain that a salute was redundant.

Lotor smiled at him as the training deck doors shut behind him. “You’re up early – or late,” he commented easily, nodding at Keith.

Keith swallowed hard and inclined his head. “Not much point in sitting around in bed if I’m having trouble sleeping,” he said, eyeing Lotor warily.

Lotor nodded with acquiescence. “Spar with me?” he asked, gesturing lightly with his sword. “It’s been a long time since I’ve fought something other than sentries. A live opponent would do me some good.”

Keith frowned, even as he slid back into his stance. “If you’re sure,” he offered warily.

“I’m certain,” Lotor said, drawing his sword. “To first blood?”

First blood was a relatively generous stopping point. Keith took his position, eyeing Lotor warily. “This isn’t some trial where I’m expected to lose to you on principle, is it?” he asked cautiously.

Lotor blinked, then threw his head back, laughing heartily. Keith stared, eyes tracing the line of the prince’s elegant throat, wandering up to his luminous face, the luxurious hair that spilled over his shoulders with every motion. “Ah, Keith,” Lotor said as he straightened, wiping tiny droplets of water from the corners of his eyes. Odd – Keith had never known anyone else to produce actual tears, not since leaving Earth. “I will never set you up to fail. I’d much rather hone the successes of the rare trustworthy individuals I encounter, if it’s all the same.”

Keith furrowed his brow, even as he tightened his stance. He watched warily as Lotor drew his sword, falling back into a similar starting-stance. “First blood, you said?” he asked.

“That’s the plan.” Keith barely had a moment to process before Lotor launched forward, his blade dancing in front of him. Keith brought his blade up, barely blocking the prince’s swift movement, dancing backwards as Lotor immediately retaliated, effortlessly twirling to aim his sword at Keith’s side.

Lotor fought as though his sword was an extension of himself, dancing and spinning, his blade lashing out and coming up short before drawing blood. Lotor was toying with him, Keith realized, his blood warming in his veins as he blocked a near-effortless strike. For whatever reason, Lotor was holding back – why? To test Keith’s mettle? To try to draw him into a rage?

Keith growled, but forced himself to draw back, centering himself. He wouldn’t beat Lotor in offensive combat. His best chance was to stay on the defensive until the tables could turn.

Lotor came at him again, steel and silk, effortless swordsmanship combined with what was surely tens of deca‑phoebs of martial arts training. Even when Keith thought he’d found an opening, when he took the chance to end it all, Lotor managed to flip backwards, to dance away from his sword, to parry with open, easy enjoyment. Lotor’s face, open and charismatic enough in their first meeting, shone with utter glee as they sparred, ecstasy splitting his mouth into a grin, his eyes dancing with delight as Keith parried each blow, giving back as good as he could get.

It didn’t change the outcome, with Keith flat on his back once again, his sword halfway across the room, the tip of Lotor’s sword pressed against his throat, a shallow line of blood bubbling under the tip – barely a nick, nothing that would damage vitals. “Do you yield, Keith?” Lotor asked breathlessly, panting slightly, his silver hair plastered against his temples.

There was a small chance that Keith could seize Lotor’s arm and sword and fight his way free, if he was willing to damage his hands. He wasn’t. In any case, the fight was to first blood – even if he refused to yield, the fight was over. “I yield… For now,” he warned, raising his hands in surrender. It would have been the wrong choice on the base training deck, but somehow, he had the sense that Lotor didn’t see all surrenders as innate failures.

Lotor grinned and sheathed his sword at his side, then bent to offer Keith a hand. Keith eyed his hand for a second, then grasped the prince’s forearm, allowing Lotor to help pull him to his feet.

“You fight well,” Lotor said, releasing Keith’s arm and running his fingers through his sweat-plastered hair. (A part of Keith wondered what Lotor’s other heritage was, to be plagued with sweat-ducts similar to Keith’s own.) “Your style is more eclectic and adaptable than most sword-users I’ve sparred with.”

Keith shook his head. “You were holding back the whole time,” he accused.

Lotor regarded him curiously. “Well, of course I was,” he said. “You’ve trained with the sword for, what, a few deca-phoebs? I was a very young child when I first began to train – eight deca-phoebs, at the most. Excluding my time in cryostasis, I have been training for the past two hundred fifty deca-phoebs. My experience does somewhat outstrip yours,” he said, quirking an eyebrow.

Keith met Lotor’s eyes as he strapped his own sword back to his belt, a familiar, comforting weight. “Why _were_ you in cryostasis, anyways?” he asked curiously.

The amusement faded from Lotor’s face, and he averted his eyes. “I’ll tell you another time, perhaps,” he said, pensive.

Keith grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep,” he said, taking a wary step back. For all that he was a general now, Lotor did still outrank him. Upsetting a higher-ranking officer was a good way to invite pain.

Lotor shook his head, his lips quirking into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he turned back to Keith. “No harm done,” he promised. “It _is_ a matter of public record, if you want to search through nearly ten‑thousand deca-phoebs of military files,” he added wryly.

Keith was pretty sure he’d rather pull his fur out hair by hair. He must have made some sort of face, because Lotor laughed lowly and clapped a hand on his shoulder. Something curled low in Keith’s gut at the contact, a strange, tingly tendril of… Something.

“Get some rest, Keith,” Lotor said. “I should be ready to brief you and the others on our first mission within the next few quintants. As enlightening as these past few movements have been, I do have to get back to my work at some point.” He withdrew his hand, though the weight of it lingered.

Keith stood still in the training room for nearly a dobosh after the doors slid shut behind Lotor, trying to take stock of that odd squirming feeling in his insides. Maybe he was getting sick, he thought as he finally shook himself free of his reverie and made his way back to his quarters. If it kept up, he’d stop by the med-bay to see if he’d somehow contracted some sort of slow-acting illness.

Keith hung his sword in his storage room and stripped from his flight-suit, then took a set of sleep clothes to the washroom with him. He stood beneath the warm spray of the water, his mind replaying the sparring match with Lotor as he washed. The more he replayed the match, the more he _thought_ he could poke holes in the prince’s fighting style, at least enough that he could have drawn the match out longer, could have done a better job holding his ground. He ran his soap-lathered hands through the overly-long white hair on his scalp as he replayed the final scene in his head. Lotor had managed to use his own sword to dislodge Keith’s sword, sending it clattering across the room, then had body-checked Keith hard enough to send him sprawling, helpless to block the tip of Lotor’s sword at his throat. Keith shook his head, replaying the scene. A twist of blades to break Keith’s grip on the pommel. Surety of stance, strong and steady even in motion, Lotor’s body sending Keith to the ground.

Keith’s mind flashed to that final part of the fight where he laid on his back with Lotor above him, asking for his surrender. Something uncoiled and burned low in him at the memory, something different from the strange sensations he’d felt earlier.

_Desire._

Keith stiffened as he finally realized what that strange, only vaguely familiar feeling was. It wasn’t something he’d felt often – his fellow cadets and soldiers hadn’t exactly been desirable to him, for the most part. He cursed internally, trying desperately to turn his thoughts to something else, _anything_ else.

As if in response, Keith’s shoulder tingled, the sense-memory of Lotor’s hand flaring to life. “No,” Keith growled to himself, crossing his arms and squeezing. He couldn’t allow himself to think this way. Lotor was his commanding officer! He was heir to the empire! He was so, so far off limits, no way could Keith allow himself to think of him like this!

Frustrated, Keith pulled up the shower controls and adjusted the temperature to its coldest setting. Immediately, the warm droplets turned almost agonizingly cold, immediately curing him of the inappropriate warmth building in his lower regions. “T-that’s better,” Keith said aloud, shivering. He hurried his way through the rest of his shower, then stood under the icy spray for another few doboshes, just to be certain.

His teeth were chattering painfully by the time he exited the shower. Keith struggled into his sleep clothes and then stumbled out into his room, collapsing face-first onto the bed and pressing the switch to dim the lights. He didn’t even bother crawling under his sheets, just wrapped his arms around his pillow and stared into the darkness.

* * *

Keith barely managed a couple vargas of restless sleep before giving up and rising for the day. He grimaced when he caught sight of himself in the washroom mirror; his face was ashy and pale underneath his fur, and his eyes were underscored with blackish-blue shadows. He did his best to style his hair into something presentable and smooth his facial fur down, then dressed himself in his flight-suit and armor. He hesitated at the door, unease creeping up within him. A small, irrational part of him begged him to stay in his quarters, because what if someone looked him in the face and somehow _knew_ about the completely inappropriate thoughts he’d had last night.

Keith rubbed his eyes and made himself exit his quarters. He was being ridiculous. Besides, his… reaction… was probably some sort of one-off thing. _That_ sort of physical need had never been an issue before – he probably just needed to take the time to let off some steam in his quarters.

The ship’s mess, manned only by a single sentry, was deserted when Keith entered. He took a serving of whatever monstrosity the sentry had made and sat in the corner of the mess, shoving food mechanically into his mouth.

“Wow.” Keith jumped, nearly spilling the contents of his bowl in his lap, as Ezor appeared right next to him. “You look awful,” she said frankly, producing her own bowl and settling down next to him.

Keith shook his head and swallowed his current mouthful of breakfast. “Didn’t sleep much,” he said.

Ezor shrugged. “Yeah, okay,” she said. “Are you awake enough to spar after breakfast?” she asked.

Memories of last night’s sparring exercise, and the utter debacle that followed, immediately flooded Keith’s mind. He felt heat rising in his cheeks and ducked his head, allowing his hair to fall in his face and masking the movement with a coughing fit. “Uh, yeah,” he said when he was reasonably sure his face was somewhat normal.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ezor asked, a hint of actual concern coloring her voice.

“Yeah,” Keith said, nodding. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“If you’re certain,” Ezor said dubiously. “We’re all teaming up against Narti to get some payback for, well, everything.” She grinned, baring sharp teeth. “I think we can call ourselves square after we all beat her into the ground, right?”

Keith snorted at that. “You know, she did get us to where we are today,” he pointed out – something that he’d been reminding himself nearly every quintant.

Ezor shrugged. “True, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get a little payback anyways,” she said. “Besides, it’s good team-building to all spar together, right?” she added, mischief glinting in her eyes.

“I’m not sure four-on-one counts as sparring together,” Keith said idly, then took another bite of his thoroughly unpalatable breakfast. He made a face, then pushed it away.

Ezor, for her part, tilted her head back and poured nearly her entire bowl directly down her gullet, grimacing as she swallowed. “What?” she asked as Keith stared at her. “That way, I don’t have to taste it.”

“Pretty sure I’d suffocate if I tried that,” Keith remarked.

“Yeah, Zethrid can’t manage it either. You’d think after 10,000 deca-phoebs of conquering, the Empire would’ve picked up on some better food from _one_ planet or another.” She rose and quirked an eyebrow at Keith. “You coming? Acxa and Zethrid are probably already waiting outside the training deck. We want to catch her by surprise.”

Twenty doboshes later, when they had finally subdued Narti and she agreed to yield, Keith had to admit that four-on-one was a pretty good teambuilding exercise, and there absolutely was something gratifying about pulling one over on Narti.

…Even if her cheerfully ominous promises of retribution ensured that Keith would be sleeping with one eye open for the next few phoebs, at the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter isn't technically late. It's still Friday for another hour in my time zone.
> 
> I know absolutely nothing about sword fighting other than that it looks really cool. Hopefully that doesn't come across too much...


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A diplomatic negotiation goes sideways, forcing Keith and the other generals to act quickly.

“We’ll be arriving at our destination in approximately three vargas. In the meantime, I would like to brief you on our mission,” Lotor announced, eyes flicking to each general in turn. Keith fought to keep from flushing as Lotor’s eyes lingered on him for a brief moment, stamping down hard on the memory of his… inappropriate thoughts about his commanding officer, just two quintants ago.

“It’s a simple enough mission,” Lotor continued. “My sources say that planet Poia is on the verge of rebellion, and the Poians have expressed some dissatisfaction, to say the least, with their place within the empire. Our objective is to renegotiate terms, while still maintaining our position of advantage. Are there any questions?”

“When you say it’s on the verge of rebellion, are there any active rebels on planet?” Zethrid asked.

Lotor’s lips twitched upward, and he regarded her sidelong. “I’m afraid you may find this mission boring, Zethrid,” he said apologetically. “I don’t anticipate any fights, if things go well. Of course, if things go poorly, feel free to use more forceful tactics – just keep the situation nonlethal, if at all possible.”

Zethrid seemed disgruntled by the response, but inclined her head in agreement.

“Any other questions?” Lotor asked.

Keith swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as he caught Lotor’s eye. “If there’s no active rebellion yet, and you’re handling the negotiations, what are we doing coming along with you?” he asked. He didn’t like the idea of standing around and doing nothing.

Lotor smiled, and Keith tried to ignore the jolt that ignited his body, the sudden increase to his heart-rate. “Excellent question, Keith,” he said. “For one, in case there is any violence, I would hate to be stranded on the planet without any backup. And of course, although I will be leading the negotiations, I value input from all of you if I miss something, or if we come to a standstill.”

“I also have a question,” Acxa said. “What dissatisfaction have the Poians expressed? We can’t be expected to provide input if we don’t know the situation.”

Lotor turned to face Acxa, and Keith relaxed somewhat, his heartbeat slowly returning to its normal rate. “The primary issue is lack of adequate medical care, as I understand,” he said. “In the past ten deca-phoebs, there have been nearly fifteen outbreaks of deadly plagues on the planet, and no upgrades in access to medical technology per their acquisition nearly three hundred deca-phoebs ago. It’s an easy enough fix, now that we’ve been made aware of their plight.” He looked seriously at each general before adding, “Don’t worry – none of the plagues are known to affect any species other than the Poians. I will insist on decontamination once we leave the planet, but none of us should fall ill.”

Both Acxa and Zethrid tensed somewhat at the answer, though neither said anything. Lotor turned to Ezor and Narti, who stood beside each other. “Ezor? Narti? Do either of you have any concerns?” he asked.

Narti’s blank face remained unchanging, her silence speaking for itself. Ezor shook her head, but cast a worried look at Zethrid. Keith frowned, but resolved to ask later.

Lotor waited another long moment, then nodded. “Very good,” he said. “I will see you on the shuttle in three vargas.” He turned, crossing the room swiftly and exiting, leaving the five generals behind.

“Are you gonna be okay, Zethrid?” Ezor asked carefully.

“I’ll be fine,” Zethrid grumbled. “Lay off, Ezor.”

Keith opened his mouth, but Acxa beat him to the punch. “Why wouldn’t you be fine?” she asked, her voice sharp, defensive. Keith’s mind flashed back to Acxa’s distress in the medical bay, even as Zethrid shook her head.

“It’s nothing,” Zethrid said, waving a large hand. “Medical care on my father’s planet was sub‑par. I joined the army when he got sick so he could receive care from the Empire-proper. Best decision I made in my life,” she said, baring her teeth in a pantomime of a grin.

Huh. Of any answer Zethrid could have given, that was the last one Keith had expected. “I’d have thought you joined the army so you could fight,” he said, his ears flicking cautiously.

Zethrid snorted. “Until my father got sick, I planned to make a name for myself in the arena,” she admitted easily. “Always liked fighting, just like my mother. She went the non-lethal gladiator route, herself. But I think this worked out in the end,” she said, grinning. “My father got the care he needed, and as it turns out, I’m a _very good_ soldier. Couldn’t have asked for a better turn of events!” She nodded. “Yeah, and hey, I guess we’ll get these Poians some better med-tech and keep any half-galra, half-Poian runts from stealing my spot here, yeah?”

Keith forced a smile at her weak joke. “Guess so,” he said.

They dispersed awkwardly after that, and Keith took the time to go back to his quarters and pull up the original treaty between the Empire and the Poians. He’d made it through nearly twenty pages of the file – and reminded himself not to be proud of that, it was still well-below standards – before his wrist communicator beeped, signaling that it was time to board the shuttle to Poia. He made his way to the docking station and took the available space in the shuttle, between Ezor and Lotor. He shivered slightly at the proximity to Lotor, but forced himself to quell any deeper reaction, staring pointedly at the shuttle doors. There was _never_ a good time to acknowledge this feeling – certainly not now, right before a diplomatic mission!

The shuttle breached the atmosphere, and Keith locked his limbs to minimize movement as turbulence shook the shuttle. He clutched the hand-grip available, stabilizing so he didn’t fall into Ezor’s or Lotor’s space, gritting his teeth the whole time.

A particularly harsh burst of turbulence hit the shuttle, and Lotor stumbled backwards, colliding with Keith. Keith’s breath hitched, his heart stuttering to a halt, as Lotor leaned against him for a full tick before the shuttle stabilized; Lotor stumbled back to his position, and Keith reminded himself to be glad about it. Atmospheric disturbances were never good, and on a personal level, he shouldn’t feel the desire to indulge in personal contact with his commanding officer. It was against protocol, at best.

The ship shuddered into its docking position, and the doors slid open with a hiss. Lotor led the way out, followed by Narti; Keith and Acxa exited in tandem, trailed by Zethrid and Ezor. They stopped almost immediately before a small, colorfully-furred alien with three eyes, standing at less than half of Keith’s height. Despite his diminutive stature and the distinct puff of his thick fur, the Poian King carried himself with dignity, managing to appear sedate and collected even while craning his neck to meet Lotor’s eyes. “Welcome, Prince Lotor, of the Galra Empire,” the Poian intoned formally, folding his hands.

“King Klau, of the Poians,” Lotor greeted respectfully. “I understand that we have terms to renegotiate.”

King Klau’s nearly floor-length ears whipped rapidly from side-to-side. “We most certainly do,” he said, turning his back on Lotor and clicking, making a gesture to follow. Keith stiffened and glanced at Lotor, unsure of what to do in the face of this disrespect, but Lotor shook his head and placed a hand on Acxa’s shoulder as she opened her mouth to protest. “This isn’t rude, to them,” he murmured. “This is their version of respect – trusting that I won’t shoot him in the back.” He removed his hand from Acxa’s shoulder and turned to follow the Poian King.

Keith, along with the others, followed Lotor. As they traversed the winding corridors of the King’s stone warren, he tried not to remember the heat of Lotor’s back against his chest.

King Klau led them into a chamber that doubtless counted as cavernous for his people, even though Zethrid’s head nearly touched the ceiling. “So,” he said, taking his seat on what counted for a high throne, his eyes still coming at level with Keith’s mouth. “You say the Galra Empire can renegotiate to help my people through our plagues. You will send updated medical technology, and medicine that we can send to our outer settlements?”

Lotor inclined his head seriously. “Of course. It grieves me, to know that we let an outpost of our empire languish without help. We will send you proper medical equipment immediately.”

Klau squinted at him. “And what do you require in return?” he asked.

Keith frowned, tensing slightly as Lotor regarded the Poian leader. “Nothing,” he said, frowning. “We are willing to meet your requests, and hope that you will accept your place within our empire once again, once new medical equipment has been provided.”

Klau’s three eyes narrowed. “There is always something. I would prefer that we speak honestly,” he said.

“Of course,” Lotor said. “Speaking honestly, then, failure to adequately provide for our citizens is an embarrassment to the empire. When you willingly entered our ranks, you became citizens. We seek only to correct our failings, lest the name of our great empire become tarnished.”

The king relaxed slightly, folding his hands in front of him. “Then I see no –”

Minute shifting of the ground was all the warning Keith had before the side wall of the warren exploded in a blast of orange light, sending the generals, Lotor, and Klau himself into the far wall. Keith cried out as his head cracked against the wall, pain exploding in his skull, sparks dancing in front of his eyes. A small group of furred creatures poured into the room, nearly covering Lotor in a split second, then dragging him away. Keith lurched to his knees, then collapsed, his head pounding, nausea building in his throat.

“No!” Klau rasped, staggering to his feet before collapsing once more. “No!”

Keith coughed, light spatters of red blood landing on the stone as he pulled himself to his knees. He stared at the hole in the warren wall, his head spinning from the blast. “They took Lotor,” he rasped, staring at the other generals, who all stared back, equally dazed.

It was Zethrid who finally took charge. “Ezor, Acxa, stay with the Poian King,” she ordered, before hacking loudly. “Keith, Narti, with me.”

Far be it from Keith to disagree. He wiped the dust from his eyes and staggered to his feet. “Can you track them?” he asked.

_I feel their vibrations._ Narti leapt forward, signaling for Keith and Zethrid to follow. _Come. Lotor took the hit harder than any of us, and isn’t resisting. It’s up to us to retrieve him._

Keith staggered after her, his head pounding as he followed Narti through the previously‑hidden channels dug into the earth, Zethrid on his heels. Narti led them through a complex system of warrens, angling down, down, far beneath the surface. These warrens were clearly not part of the main structure, dug as they were into the earth, rather than carved in stone, and low enough that even Keith had to duck awkwardly to keep from catching his head on their ceilings.

This Poian rebel group, whoever they were, had clearly put some thought into their escape route. Keith wondered just how long they had waited for an important figure of the empire to actually appear on-world – these warrens hadn’t just appeared overnight.

Despite the care that had gone into the earthen warrens, it seemed the rebel Poians had not expected to be followed; it was less than a half-varga before they hit the first set of guards. Primitive stun-blasters were easy to dodge, and Keith let Zethrid have the satisfaction of leaving the guards bleeding and barely conscious outside the doors. Fueled by adrenaline, they burst through to the would-be cavernous hall of a secondary warren, and were greeted with the sight of Lotor pinned by a solid fifteen Poians, his sword still strapped to his side, and his face only barely strained.

It seemed that the Poians were almost uniquely bad in taking prisoners. Keith unstrapped his sword and advanced on the figure who seemed to be the leader. “Let him go,” he growled at the tiny creature.

“Never,” the Poian snapped. “We _will_ be free. You galra will leave us, and we will hold your leader to be interrogated by the powerful rebels when they arrive to secure our liberation!”

Keith scowled at the little creature’s ravings. “I don’t think you get it,” he snapped. “You’re going to let him go, or I’ll cut you in half.”

The creature stiffened. “Cut me down if you must,” he growled, “but the growing rebel efforts within your foul empire will avenge me!  They will avenge all of us! You galra will never win!”

“Whoever these _rebels_ are, I doubt they’re coming for you,” Keith snapped, taking another step forward. “We _came_ here to address your complaints as citizens. We’re here to _help_ you. By acting in bad faith, you’ve taken away our incentive to be generous.”

“Now, Keith,” Lotor said lowly, shaking his head. “No need to threaten the negotiations.”

“Quiet, scum!” the rebel leader barked, nodding at the aliens holding Lotor. Keith snarled as one of them produced some sort of stun wand and jammed it under Lotor’s chin. Lotor clenched his eyes shut as electricity sparked from the wand, but he made no sound. “You call us equals and citizens, but our leaders have been puppet rulers at best, lackeys of yours who would sell all of Poia for their convenience!”

Narti laid a hand on Keith’s shoulder, effectively preventing him from charging the Poians. Once Keith stilled, she lifted her hand and began to walk towards the Poian rebels, all of whom tensed, tightening their small hands on Lotor’s limbs.

“Stay back!” the Poian with the stun wand ordered, its three eyes widening almost comically. Narti took another few steps forward, and the Poian jammed the stun wand into Lotor’s cheek, producing a soft grunt of pain.

Narti surveyed them calmly with her blank face – Keith still wasn’t sure how she assessed these situations without Kova – then easily smacked the leader into the cavern wall with her tail. She stalked forward another few steps, her tail rippling, radiating power.

Either that first move was unusually intimidating, or Narti was emitting some sort of presence. All but two of the Poians leapt backwards and fled, including the one armed with the stun wand, leaving one at Lotor’s ankle and one at his opposite wrist. Rather than shaking them off, Lotor straightened and glared at the stragglers. “Do you mind?” he asked, his voice clipped. “I have important negotiations with your planet’s leader to attend to.”

The two remaining Poians scrambled away, freeing Lotor’s limbs. He grimaced as he rose to his feet, combing back his mussed hair with elegant fingers as he turned to face the three generals. “I had it under control,” Lotor said, sounding almost miffed, “but thank you for coming for me.”

Zethrid growled lowly in her chest, and Keith fixed his eyes on Lotor. “Like you said in the briefing, we’re your backup,” he said flatly. “Acxa and Ezor are with the leader. I don’t think he was involved in this.”

Lotor snorted and shook his head. “The vast majority of Poians aren’t foolish enough to try to kidnap the Crown Prince of the Galra Empire,” he said, his lip curling. “Never once has an attempt like this ended well, and this may be the poorest abduction attempt I have ever experienced.”

_There need to be consequences for this._ Narti folded her arms across her chest.

“Of course. A kill order for this rebel group is now part of the deal,” Lotor said wincing as he wiped a trickle of blood from his temple. “I’m sure their King will be amenable.”

With the Poian rebels dispersed and the adrenaline slowly leeching from his veins, Keith’s headache returned in full-force, as did the throbbing aches throughout the rest of his body. “We should get back,” he said. “Finish negotiations.”

“That we should.” Lotor took a step forward and grimaced, his hands flying to his side.

“Do… Do you need any help, sir?” Zethrid asked cautiously.

Lotor glanced up, sweat beading on his forehead. “I’m fine,” he said quickly, his voice sharp. “I’ll trust you to lead the way back, though,” he added, taking a labored breath.

Narti shifted slightly, and Keith was almost certain he sensed something like disapproval from her. She hovered close to Lotor as they made their way back to the main warren, close enough to catch him if he fell.

Keith, for his part, fell to the back, swiveling his ears back slightly to pick up any movement behind him. The warrens were silent, but he didn’t trust that the rebels weren’t going to regroup and stage another attack.

The hole that blasted from these makeshift warrens into the original stone chamber was clear on their side, if riddled with stone and dirt on the other side. Ezor relaxed as first Zethrid, then Lotor, then Narti and Keith climbed through the opening, though Acxa kept her blaster angled at the Poian king. “My Prince,” Acxa murmured, saluting with her free hand.

“Is everyone all right?” Ezor asked, her salute somewhat belated, her face worried as she looked over each of them.

“I’m sure we’ve all been better, but no permanent harm done,” Lotor said, crossing the hall and stopping in front of the king and taking a deep breath. “You can put the blaster away, Acxa,” he added, glancing at her.

Was it just Keith, or did Lotor seem like he was having trouble breathing?

Acxa frowned, but holstered her weapon. King Klau, for his part, dropped to his knees as soon as the weapon fell. “Prince Lotor, my deepest apologies,” he exclaimed, staring at the floor. “Thank the sun and the moons that you are retrieved – by the power of all the stone beneath me, I swear, your kidnappers will be found and brought to justice. Name your command, your punishment, and I will see it done, just do not take your price from the innocents that far outnumber the rebels on this planet!” he babbled, pressing his forehead to the ground.

Lotor straightened, and were it not for the slight furrow of his brow, Keith wouldn’t even know he was in pain. “Enough,” he said coldly. “I am not so cruel as to punish an entire planet for the actions of a few rebels. I will be adding some new terms to our negotiations, however.”

King Klau looked up, his three eyes closing slightly. “Of course,” he said, sounding defeated. “Please, name your terms.”

Lotor stared impassively down at the alien king. Keith swallowed hard, tensing despite himself; he’d grown used to the almost playful affect Lotor usually showed to the generals. This?

This was the face of a conqueror, of a ruler. Keith wasn’t sure exactly what to make of it.

“We will upgrade your medical technology and provide you with medicine to spread throughout the planet,” Lotor said, his voice icy. “In return, the rebels who attempted to abduct me will be executed. And let it be known throughout the planet that those who wish to reject citizenship within the Galra Empire are free to do so, and will be treated _exactly_ as any other non-citizen within the empire.”

Keith stilled somewhat at that, the blood, cooling slightly in his veins. That… That seemed harsh.

Lotor had wanted their input, right? He cleared his throat, grimacing as the vibrations sent pain spiking through his head. “My Prince, can I talk to you?” he asked quietly, tensing slightly as Lotor turned to regard him.

Lotor frowned. “You can speak freely, General Keith,” he said. “You know I value your input.”

Keith exhaled, steeling himself to contradict the prince in public. “There should be a set process to disavow citizenship, and another process to reinstate it,” he said. “Otherwise, what’s going to stop a bunch of dumb kids from rejecting citizenship in the Empire? And what if someone rebels nonviolently when they’re young and misguided, but then realizes they were wrong, and wants to rejoin the empire?”

Lotor’s lips turned down even further, his brow furrowing. “That sounds awfully like escaping consequences for rebellion,” he said.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Acxa said, before Keith could respond. “We could implement a set of stringent consequences to be applied before anyone can attempt to rejoin us. I assume that the Poian government would be glad to apply consequences before allowing any rebels to rejoin, within reason,” she said, offering a pointed look at King Klau.

The king nodded immediately, staring up at Lotor with desperate eyes. “Of course. We would be perfectly willing to devise a system that meets these requirements,” he said quickly, folding his hands before him respectfully.

Lotor’s eyes narrowed, and he was quiet for a moment, taking deep, even breaths. “Violent rebellion will still require a harsh sentence,” he said finally, his voice tight.

“Of course,” King Klau said quickly. “And those who take violent action against the Empire will be subject to execution. Is that amenable to you?”

Lotor’s eyes flicked between Keith and Acxa, then he turned, pasting on a smile. “Of course,” he said, inclining his head to the Poian king. “Devise your system. I will return within a movement to formally record your new terms. In the meantime, in good faith, the Empire will supply you with the medicine you need. The upgrades to your medical equipment will follow, when your new terms are officially logged within the Empire’s systems.”

Klau bowed his head. “This is acceptable,” he said.

“Then we’re done, for now,” Lotor said. “Zethrid, Narti, lead the way back to the ship.”

Keith fell in line behind Lotor with Acxa and Ezor. “What happened while we were gone?” he asked quietly.

“Poor old King Klau started begging for his life before Acxa even took her blaster out,” Ezor said, offering a mirthless smile. “It was pretty boring. I’ll bet rescuing Lotor was a lot more fun.”

Keith shook his head. “I don’t think the Poians could successfully kidnap _livestock,”_ he said. “It was pretty easy to take them down.”

They made their way back to the shuttle, and the hatch closed in front of them. No sooner had they taken their positions before Lotor crumpled to his knees, clutching at his side and groaning. “Narti,” he panted, sweat beading on his forehead, “call ahead to the med-bay.”

“Sir!” Zethrid yelped, dropping to her knees in front of him.

“I’m fine, Zethrid,” Lotor said through gritted teeth.

There was some merit in staying stoic, but there was a time and a place for putting on a brave face. Without thinking, Keith shoved Zethrid out of the way and dropped to his knees in front of Lotor. “With all due respect, sir,” he said quietly, “we all know that’s a lie. You’re injured.”

Lotor glanced up at that, his face creased with pain. “It’s possible that the Poian rebels broke several ribs when they took me,” he said through gritted teeth. “One of them may have punctured a lung during negotiations. I will be _fine,_ Keith. I just need the med-bay.”

Keith reared back in alarm. “Can’t this thing go any faster?” he demanded.

_It has a set speed._ Narti dropped to a crouch beside Keith and took Lotor by the shoulders, gently steering him so he was positioned on his uninjured side. _He’s not in mortal danger._

“Clearly,” Lotor rasped. “You all could use the med-bay, too. Even you, Acxa,” he added, his eyes flicking to Acxa, who stood stock-still, staring at him. “Injuries like this are par for the course, when treating with planets with unconfirmed hostilities,” he added before taking a short, shuddering breath and then coughing wetly, specks of purple blood staining the shuttle floor.

Instinctively, Keith laid a hand on Lotor’s forearm, shivering slightly at the feel of cool fiber from Lotor’s armor beneath his hand. “You’re coughing up blood,” he pointed out as Lotor shifted as though to rise beneath him.

Lotor’s pained grimaced deepened, and he closed his eyes. “I’ve had worse,” he muttered.

The ship shuddered into the cruiser’s docking bay, and Keith joined Narti in swinging one of Lotor’s arms over his shoulders. “Following you,” he said sharply as Narti turned her blank face to him. Narti turned to face forward, and Keith kept step with her, half-dragging and half‑carrying Lotor to the med-bay.

With the first med-bay sentry looking after Lotor, Keith was willing to take a step back and be observed by one of the other sentries, which injected him with nanites to treat his concussion, then turned away to resume its other duties. Narti, Zethrid, and Ezor submitted to similar treatment, regularly glancing at Lotor, just as Keith did, to keep an eye on him.

Throughout it all, Acxa stood in the med-bay door, holding herself carefully as if in pain, watching all of them. Keith had had enough. The nanites had stabilized him enough that he could stand without waves of pain wracking his head; he rose, and strode across the med-bay to face her.

“You need to get treated,” he said abruptly, without preamble.

Acxa narrowed her eyes, glaring at Keith. “I’m fine,” she snapped.

“Really?” Keith shot back. “That blast knocked you against the wall, too. You don’t need to play stoic, you know. Ezor took the same injuries as you, and she’s getting treatment.”

Acxa tensed, and took a step back. “I don’t like med-bays,” she snapped. “And I’m perfectly fine.”

No, she wasn’t. “Really?” Keith demanded, drawing his sword. “Then square up. You beat me, and I won’t push it.”

Acxa gaped at him, her arms dangling by her sides. “Keith, I’m _fine,”_ she argued.

Keith raised his sword. “Are you?” he demanded. “Then spar with me.”

Acxa narrowed her eyes, then drew her blaster, aiming at Keith with wavering hands. Her brows drew together, and she fired her first shot. Keith didn’t bother to dodge, meeting her eyes as her blast drew high and wide, missing him by several feet.

Acxa slumped slightly. “I don’t want to go to the med-bay,” she said, her eyes shining brightly, tears gathering at the corners. Interesting – another half-breed who could cry. “It always ends badly. I know how to recover from a concussion and come out okay.”

Keith shook his head. “Acxa,” he said quietly, “we’re generals now. We’re on _Lotor’s_ ship. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Acxa grimaced. “I know,” she admitted reluctantly.

Keith hesitated slightly before continuing. “What if I sit with you the whole time you’re there?” he asked carefully. “Would that help? When we’re both recovered, we can go spar.”

Acxa took a shaky breath. “Just – just stay with me,” she said, her voice trembling, unusually vulnerable. “I’ll gladly spar with you, afterwards.” She shook her head. “I know I’m being ridiculous. I know I’m not on my old base.”

 Keith shook his head, even as he walked her to the med-bay. “I get it,” he said quietly. “I didn’t get a lot of flak after I was actually put into the army, but apparently I had officers watching me from the beginning, so even when people wanted to give me a hard time, they didn’t have much ground to stand on,” he said, even as the doors to the med-bay hissed open again. He helped Acxa up onto the nearest sitting-stretcher and made sure to keep his hand on her shoulder.

Acxa shivered. “You’re lucky,” she remarked.

Keith grimaced, remembering his first days at pre-junior boot camp, and the years that followed. “I had to fight my way through junior boot camp, then boot camp itself,” he said quietly. “The number of times I got jumped and had to defend myself? Honestly, I lost count,” he said, smiling wryly. “They got creative with threats, especially once we moved from junior boot camp to actual boot camp.”

Acxa stiffened slightly. “Creative, like –”

“Like they met my claws,” Keith assured her. “Yeah, I’m only half-galra and I’m small, so people tried to beat me into the ground a lot, and a couple of the cadets tried to kill me, once. But no one likes a claw to the eye.”

Acxa’s smile was brittle, but she clapped Keith on the back. “Us half-breeds stick together,” she declared.

Keith grinned back at her. “Of course we do,” he said, his lips turning up. “But that’s not our problem now. The rest of us have been treated. You really should get nanites in to fix your concussion.”

Acxa hesitated. “I’m just not comfortable with this whole med-bay nonsense,” she said warily.

It wasn’t unreasonable. Still, Keith reached for her and laid an arm on her shoulder. “It’s just nanites,” he said quietly. “And I’ll be here the whole time.” He glanced behind him. Zethrid stood with her arms folded over her chest, and gave an approving nod; Ezor and Narti each remained seated on their respective stretchers, clearly ready to wait Acxa out.

Acxa exhaled heavily, but took a tentative step into the med-bay, her shoulders high with tension. “I suppose it’s pretty ridiculous to refuse treatment,” she said, making her way to the nearest stretcher and perching lightly on the edge, ready to leap up at a moment’s notice.

It was close enough to a win, Keith thought, exchanging looks of satisfaction with Zethrid and Ezor.

“I do appreciate this, Acxa,” Lotor said from his stretcher, managing somehow to sound dignified while flat on his back with his words slurred from the anesthesia. “I greatly prefer to have my people in full, fighting form.”

_Stop fighting the anesthesia._ From the annoyance that tinged Narti’s thoughts, Keith guessed that this was somewhat of a recurring argument.

Keith turned his gaze from Acxa to see how Lotor was faring. He grimaced at the sight; the medical sentries had stripped him from the waist up, and were currently in the process of making a long, surgical cut down his sculpted abdomen. He turned away with a wince, directing his attention back to Acxa, who was allowing the sentry to inject her with healing nanites, her face scrunched slightly as though it took all her self-control to keep from fleeing. “Remember, you owe me a sparring match after this,” Keith reminded her in an attempt to distract her.

“Ooh, we should all spar!” Ezor piped up, hopping off her stretcher and rolling her shoulders easily.

“Free-for-all!” Zethrid added enthusiastically, pumping her fist.

Narti nodded in assent, her posture shifting slightly, her fingers flexing.

The sentry turned away from Acxa, who rose immediately to her feet. “Are we done, here?” she asked, rubbing the injection point absently.

“I think so,” Ezor said. “So, sparring?”

Keith spared a last glance at Lotor as they headed towards the med-bay doors. The prince was fully unconscious by now, having succumbed to the anesthesia – and a good thing, Keith thought with a shudder as he watched the medical sentries make meticulous movements and adjustments inside Lotor’s cracked-open chest cavity.

“Come on, short-stuff!” Zethrid called, and Keith forced himself to turn away, jogging to catch up with the rest of the generals.

“Don’t call me short-stuff,” he protested as he caught up with Zethrid, lightly punching her meaty bicep. Zethrid responded with a playful shove, sending Keith stumbling into the wall.

“Beat me in sparring, and I’ll stop!” Zethrid said, grinning.

All told, at the end of their prolonged and grueling cutthroat sparring match, Keith was content to watch Zethrid and Narti battle it out for the ultimate winner. At least he’d lasted until both Acxa and Ezor were out, he reminded himself to soothe his wounded pride.

“This is good,” Ezor commented from the sidelines where the three stood, nursing various sprains and cuts and bruises. “It’s a learning experience, right?”

Acxa snorted. “If that makes you feel better, seeing how you were the first one to get taken out,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Hey!” Ezor protested. “I was _trying_ to get the drop on Narti!”

“I prefer to think of it as me taking you out even though you were invisible,” Acxa retorted.

Keith, for his part, watched intently as Zethrid dodged a powerful swing of Narti’s tail, dashing around the corner and taking several steps up the wall before pushing off as gravity caught up, allowing her own body-mass to propel her hard into Narti’s chest, knocking her to the ground. “They’re definitely both powerhouses,” he commented as Narti smacked Zethrid away with her tail, sending Zethrid skidding across the training deck.

“That they are,” Acxa agreed. “It’s something to keep in mind, for future matches. None of us can take down either of them with strength and power alone.”

Narti slammed Zethrid to the ground and held her down, wriggling, for a solid thirty ticks before Zethrid raised her hands in defeat, a grin splitting her face. “I’ll beat you someday,” Zethrid panted as Narti let her up.

Narti tilted her head in amusement. That was something she’d been doing increasingly often, Keith thought – responding with body language, rather than by projecting her thoughts. The more he interacted with her, the easier she was to understand with gestures alone. Sometime, he’d have to ask her if telepathic communication took a lot of energy, or if she was just more comfortable communicating with body-language alone – he was desperately curious.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but it’s almost 1900 vargas,” Ezor piped up as Zethrid and Narti shook hands, and Zethrid offered a salute. “Want to hit the mess hall and see what sort of horrible concoction these cooking sentries have concocted this time?”

Keith, Acxa, and Zethrid all shuddered in response. “Breakfast today tasted like dirty feet,” Zethrid complained.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Keith muttered, shuddering at the memory of blood-fried Yelmore chunks encased in Ziithri leaves.

_The sustenance prepared by the sentries is of optimal nutritional value._ Narti cocked her head at them. _I’m sure this evening’s sustenance is equally nutritious._

The other four generals all grimaced, and Keith fought to keep his gag reflex under control. “It still tastes horrible,” he pointed out.

Narti turned her blank face to him. _I wouldn’t know. I don’t taste my food._

“Lucky you,” Ezor muttered as they exited the training deck together and headed to the mess.

They clustered together around a single table. Keith, Ezor, Zethrid, and Acxa all set down plates containing some sort of browned meat – likely leftover Yelmore from breakfast – while Narti injected a feeding tube directly into her abdomen, allowing the liquefied contents of her dinner to pour directly into her stomach. Keith grimaced as he chewed a chunk of dirt-tasting meat, absently entertaining the idea of requesting a direct line to his stomach, himself. Sure, okay, Narti needed this because her mouth was fused shut, but there had to be a case for receiving a feeding line just to bypass the foul taste of galran cuisine.

“You know, back on my father’s planet,” Zethrid commented abruptly, “food was considered an art form. Chefs from different tribes would gather regularly to swap recipes and compare techniques for adding flavor and modifying texture to various foods. It’s the one thing I miss about his planet.”

Acxa offered a small smile. “My mother’s culture didn’t put much stock in cooking or adorning food,” she said, “but the natural edible vegetation carried its own sweet flavors. And when my mother realized that I needed meat to survive, she consulted with nearby planets to ensure that it became a highlight of my meals. I also miss that.”

Ezor hummed lightly. “I mean, I mostly ate the leftovers at my moth– my, my non-galra parent’s home,” she said, shaking her head. “They were scraps, but they tasted better than this,” she added, gesturing at the sad chunks of Yelmore.

Keith shook his head as the others all turned to look at him. “Yeah. I ate a lot of pre-prepared food and emergency rations, since I couldn’t be seen by any of the planetary natives,” he said. “But I miss ramen – noodles, made from plant flour – and protein bars, and stuff like that.” He’d loved the times when his dad brought home fresh ingredients and cooked on their camp stove, but most of the time, it wasn’t feasible. “It was all better than this,” he added. “At least the flavor was usually good.”

Narti shook her head at them and folded her arms, her feeding-bag more than half-drained. _It seems like a silly reason to be sentimental._

Ezor scowled and leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her raised fists. “Okay, well, for comparison, pretend that you went from listening to a beautiful singer on a regular basis, to having someone shrieking in your ears for twenty minutes twice a day, for no reason, and then the rest of the time your day is normal. That’s what eating galran food is like.”

_I see. So, when you four arrived on ship, I experienced the equivalent of tasting galran food._ Narti’s thoughts were teasing, even as Ezor yelled a protest and Zethrid growled a promise of retribution. Keith couldn’t help but laugh in spite of himself, something in his chest easing. Having Narti join in on their jokes was oddly relaxing.

They dispersed after dinner, albeit with the promise to meet again in the morning at 0600 vargas for further mess-hall complaints. Keith smiled as his fellow generals made their way back to their various quarters, but found his feet taking him in the opposite direction, to the med-bay.

The doors hissed open, and Keith stepped inside cautiously, eyeing Lotor’s still-occupied stretcher. The sentries bustled about the bay, ignoring him, but also leaving Lotor alone on the stretcher. Carefully, Keith slid past the sentries to stand by Lotor’s bedside, staring down at him.

Lotor cracked his eyes open blearily as Keith approached. “Keith,” he said, his voice unnaturally small and thin. “Weren’t you supposed to spar with the others?”

Keith shook his head, stopping by his prince’s bedside. “We sparred, we ate, and they went back to their quarters,” he said.

Lotor grimaced, pressing a hand lightly to his side. A flash of pain crossed his face, and he made no move to sit up. “So, why are you here?” he asked.

Keith shrugged. “I wanted to see how you were healing, sir,” he said, folding his hands before him, but refraining from saluting. Somehow, it didn’t seem appropriate to salute his commanding officer when he was laid out in the med-bay.

Lotor chuckled breathlessly. “I will be fully healed within the next quintant,” he said, even as one of the sentries took his arm and injected a course of healing nanites. “There is no need to worry, Keith. This med-bay is fully equipped to care for any of my ills.”

Keith hesitated, his military training screaming at him that he’d been dismissed. Lotor’s top generals didn’t follow conventional military protocol, he reminded himself, settling down to sit at Lotor’s bedside. “Humor me, while you recover,” he said dryly.

Lotor closed his eyes. “You’re worse than Narti,” he remarked.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Keith was surprised to realize that he meant it. Narti was almost obsessively protective of Lotor, which was only befitting of a general.

Lotor sighed lightly, his expression relaxing somewhat. “Most of the damage was relatively superficial. The nanites have already healed damage to my lung, and my ribs will re-fuse soon enough. My full recovery is guaranteed.”

Keith’s lips tugged downward, and he shifted slightly. “How do you know that?” he asked.

Lotor laughed mirthlessly, his brow furrowing slightly with pain at the motion. “Feel free to ask Narti how much time I spend in the med-bay,” he said. “It’s a point of contention for her. I’m sure she’d love the opportunity to complain to someone equally over-reactive.”

“I’m not over-reacting,” Keith said flatly.

Lotor cracked his eyes open at that. He observed Keith curiously for a long moment. “Narti worries about me due to our mutual trust, formed over deca-phoebs,” he said finally. “Why do you bother holding a bedside vigil, Keith?” There was nothing antagonistic in his words; if anything, Keith thought there might be a touch of longing to his sentiments.

He swallowed hard and squared his shoulders. “Selfishly, if you can’t lead, then I don’t have a place in the empire,” he said frankly. “None of us do.”

Lotor closed his eyes. “I see,” he said quietly.

“That’s not all,” Keith said, scowling at the prince, who let his eyes slit open slightly again to regard Keith. “You’re different from the other commanders,” Keith said. “You haven’t told us what your plan is, exactly, but from what I can tell, you’re trying to actually improve the empire, not just conquer blindly. I support that. We all do. But we can’t carry on that legacy if you’re dead.”

Lotor’s eyes widened, and he shifted, raising himself on one elbow to a halfway upright position. “Keith,” he said, breathless. “That –”

“You’re still injured,” Keith said, laying a gentle hand on Lotor’s shoulder. It was strangely gratifying, the way Lotor relaxed under his touch, slumping back against the stretcher. “Don’t strain yourself.”

Lotor nodded, even as he folded one palm over Keith’s hand on his shoulder. “You understand my goals better than I would have expected, having been here for less than a phoeb,” Lotor said, meeting Keith’s eyes directly. Keith shivered as a shudder ran down his spine, nervous energy twisting lightly inside him. “I did luck out, in finding you,” Lotor said.

Keith squeezed Lotor’s shoulder, unsure of what else to do. “Get some rest,” he said quietly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” He was surprised to realize that he meant it – he had no intention of leaving the med-bay for any significant length of time until his commanding officer was fully healed, was safe and secure.

Lotor sighed in response, but allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Keith took a long moment to stare at his face, watching every flick of his eyes beneath closed lids, every twitch of his handsome mouth as dreams overtook him.

It was inappropriate, Keith reminded himself, even as he watched Lotor sleep. The prince was his commanding officer, the heir to the Galra Empire. He needed to stomp down on any inclinations of desire and destroy them completely, so that he could maintain objectivity and stay at complete fighting form.

He knew this, and could almost convince himself of it, but every time his gaze flicked back to Lotor’s sleeping form, he had to remind himself to breathe, to function as normal.

Perhaps he should let the other generals take the brunt of interacting with Lotor, Keith thought to himself the eighth time his eyes fell to the prince’s unconscious face. It was the best course of action. He needed to distance himself from Lotor before he became too entangled, or worse, too trusting. He rose silently, taking note of Lotor’s easy breathing, before excusing himself to his quarters.

Something about Lotor had Keith wanting to trust him, and be trusted in return. Keith locked himself in his washroom and scoured the sweat from his skin, taking extra care to clean his face, to ensure that when he dried himself, his fur would lay properly flat. The logical part of him said that he should collapse onto his bed and fall asleep. Lotor probably wouldn’t even remember their conversation when he woke in the morning.

Still, Keith found himself drawn back to the med-bay. He collapsed in the chair at Lotor’s bedside and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes to invite sleep. Silly as it was, and even though he doubted Lotor would remember his promise to be there when he awoke, he had made that promise, and he had every intention of keeping it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're going to abduct someone, make sure you have fully planned your extraction. I'm the one who wrote that kidnapping, and I'm still embarrassed on behalf of the rebel Poians for how poorly it went.
> 
> I'm thinking that starting next week, I'm going to move updates to Saturdays. Updating on Fridays means I either have to get up early to post the chapter before work (and then I spend the whole work day glued to my phone waiting for feedback) or I have to post after work, which is way later than I would like.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor and crew encounter trouble on a rebelling planet.
> 
> Access to an entertainment frequency goes sideways.

_~One deca-phoeb later~_

_“Keith, do you copy?”_

Keith’s eyes flicked to his communications monitor, where Acxa’s face had popped up, her brow lined with worry. “Copy, Acxa,” he affirmed. “What’s going on?”

_“We need an extraction,”_ Acxa said tightly. _“Zethrid and I are overrun by rebels.”_

Keith frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Can you hold out three doboshes?” he asked, his fingers flying over the ship’s controls to roll out of the way of the Ila rebels’ fire. They’d known going in that the situation on this planet was bad, but he hadn’t expected the rebel forces to have nearly an entire fleet of captured Galra fighters.

_“Just hurry. And contact the others and tell them to prepare for extraction.”_

Keith grimaced – that would almost certainly compromise Ezor’s mission. Over time, the team had fallen into a set of preferred roles; either Acxa or Narti would accompany Lotor to negotiations, Zethrid always took to the front lines of the fight, and Ezor would scout out the surrounding areas while camouflaged.

And Keith? He still wasn’t sure how it had happened, but somehow, Keith had ended up as their pilot.

It wasn’t that he was completely untrained in piloting before becoming intertwined with Lotor’s group – he _had_ been through Basic, after all, and he had been top of his squad at flying. He just hadn’t given it much thought until their disastrous mission on Planet Ouurlé, where somehow he’d ended up the only one both conscious and with full use of his arms. At the time, piloting them through heavy fire back to the cruiser had been a last-ditch effort, a desperate attempt to keep the group alive.

But once he’d started flying, he realized he never wanted to stop, and moreover, he was _good_ at it.

Keith fired several shots at the remaining fighters, crippling two and blowing a third up entirely to clear a path. He flew through the ensuing smoke and debris, which hung heavy in the atmosphere, squinting as he locked in on Acxa’s location. “Coming in hot,” he warned, opening the lower access doors even as he fired on the armored vehicles surrounding the building Acxa and Zethrid had barricaded themselves in. “Now!” he yelled as he managed to clear an opening.

Acxa limped out, half-carrying Zethrid, who stumbled after her. Keith cursed as Acxa took precious moments heave Zethrid onto the platform, before struggling up herself. Keith’s fighter bucked as the Ila rebels turned their fire on his fighter, their outdated lasers slow, yet powerful enough that if he didn’t get moving soon, they’d start doing some serious damage.

_“We’re on,”_ Acxa said through her communicator; Keith could just barely hear the tinny echo of her actual voice in the passenger compartment of the ship. He sealed the hatch and pulled up abruptly, loading Ezor’s coordinates and hailing her frequency.

“Ezor, abort,” Keith ordered.

_“What? Why?”_ Ezor asked, her voice tight and stressed.

“Acxa and Zethrid are injured. We need to pull out.”

Ezor snorted. _“Get Lotor and Narti first,”_ she said. _“I’m onto something here.”_ Her voice cut out abruptly as she ended the communication.

Keith cursed under his breath, and he pulled up the intra-ship communicator. “Acxa, Zethrid, when we get back to base, do you mind taking Ezor to task for being obnoxiously reckless?” he asked. It would mean more, coming from them. Keith hadn’t bothered to ask what exactly the situation was between the three of them, but it was none of his business, and they would best know how to leverage their burgeoning… Whatever it was… To make Ezor realize how _stupid_ cutting the comms was in this situation.

_“Not this again,”_ Zethrid muttered, sounding pained.

Keith frowned as he maneuvered towards Lotor’s coordinates. “Yeah, and she cut the comms this time, too,” he added. “You alright, Zethrid?”

_“I’m fine,”_ Zethrid rumbled. _“Shoulder’s out of its socket, that’s all. Speaking of, Acxa, can you reset it?”_

_“Just don’t throw me across the room this time,”_ Acxa said warningly. Keith couldn’t help but smile, remembering the last time Acxa had reset Zethrid’s shoulder; she’d hit the door hard enough to damage the mechanical insides, and it had taken a sentry nearly a varga to get the door open again.

Silence, for a moment, then Zethrid roared in pain. _“Better?”_ Acxa asked.

_“Yeah,”_ Zethrid said, panting. _“Thanks.”_

Keith turned his focus back to Lotor’s coordinates. He was still in the capitol building, with the Ila chief diplomat. He frowned, and pulled up Narti’s coordinates. She was with him, sure enough. He’d have thought they’d have taken cover somewhere else when the shooting started.

No point in dwelling on it. Keith banked the fighter in the capitol building’s docking bay. “Stay here,” he instructed.

_“We can help!”_ Zethrid argued.

There wasn’t enough time to argue. “You’re both injured. You just had your shoulder reset. Stay in the ship, and don’t slow me down,” Keith said bluntly, drawing his sword and taking off at a sprint for the main meeting-hall.

Keith burst through the doors, ignoring the chief diplomat’s cry of protest as Lotor and Narti turned towards him. “We’ve been compromised,” Keith said without preamble. “Zethrid and Acxa are both injured, and the fighter took heavy fire. We need to pull out, _now.”_

Narti tilted her head slightly at Keith. Lotor sighed, nodded, and turned back to the Ila diplomat. “It appears that it’s time for a break,” he said coolly, regarding the alien with an air of contempt. “Our negotiations are getting us nowhere, and my generals require medical attention. Shall we reconvene in, say, two quintants?”

The chief diplomat raised her chin, her jet-black compound eyes glinting in the light. “I’m afraid that’s not acceptable,” she said, mandibles clicking slightly as she spoke. “I must congratulate my people for managing to herd both you and all your generals to this building. I knew that luring you here would be worth it.”

Keith tightened his grip on his sword, but none of them managed more than a step forward before the chief diplomat brought up a screen, a broadcast of the docking bay. Keith’s fighter was completely surrounded by armored transports, each manned by several Ila with powerful blasters. “That’s right,” the chief diplomat said coldly. “We started tracking you five as soon as you emerged from your ship. Now that we have you in custody, you will face trial and punishments for your crimes against the Ila.”

Keith relaxed slightly, glancing at Lotor and Narti. _You five,_ she’d said. Ezor had cloaked herself before coming to the planet – apparently, the Ila hadn’t figured out she was there. No wonder she’d said she was onto something.

“Come now, Lady Aisce,” Lotor said, offering up a charming smile. “You know this won’t end well. Even if you successfully imprison and punish us, fleets will be sent to enact retribution against your planet for your actions against the empire.”

The diplomat, Lady Aisce, offered a harsh laugh at that, her mandibles clicking wildly. “So you would have us believe!” she chortled. “There will be no retribution for taking down you, Prince Lotor. Even we in the outlying systems know you for a banished fool, a public embarrassment to your own precious empire. Your father may even send us a reward for doing what he was too cowardly to do himself,” she added, clasping two of her spindly, three-fingered hands together.

The air behind Lady Aisce rippled slightly, and Ezor materialized into being, holding a finger to her mouth. Keith kept silent, his eyes tracking the diplomat as she shifted ever-so-slightly to the side. With a single, fluid motion, Ezor seized the diplomat by the chin and the temple and twisted her head a full 360 degrees with a loud crack, shattering her exoskeleton and ripping her head off.

Ezor tossed the head unceremoniously to the size and wiped the rose-white blood from her hands onto her armor. “Ew,” she said flatly, cocking her head at them. “You’re welcome, by the way,” she added.

Keith shook his head. “This is what you meant when you said you were onto something?” he asked disbelievingly.

“Um, yeah,” Ezor said. “I can’t _believe_ you comm’d me while I was undercover, by the way. I was right outside the building! If I’d been inside, I’d have been caught!”

Keith scowled. “We needed to abort the mission,” he snapped.

“Uh, no, apparently you needed _me_ to save the mission!” Ezor retorted.

“Less arguing, more getting back to the ship,” Lotor ordered. “You can fight about this later.”

Keith scowled, but Lotor was right. He led the way back to the ship – as the pilot, he needed to be the first on board – and hoped beyond hope that Acxa and Zethrid hadn’t just remained in the passenger bay while surrounded by enemy fighters.

His hopes were easily met; no sooner did they burst into the docking bay than someone at the controls unleashed a burst of fire at the rebel transports, easily clearing a path. Keith scrambled through the open hatch, and trusted that his ears correctly picked up the others boarding the ship as he ran for the cockpit, knocking Zethrid out of the way on his way to the pilot’s seat. “Sorry,” he said, his fingers flying over the controls. “Gotta get us out of here before the rest of the Ila realize their chief diplomat is dead,” he added.

“Aw, man, you guys killed someone without me?” Zethrid complained. “Zarkon on the Throne, why do you guys all get the action?”

Keith shrugged, maneuvering the ship in a complex set of twists and dodges. “Whine at Ezor, she’s the one who took her down,” he said, glaring as he shot for open space. So close – the Ila ships weren’t great at spacefaring adventures.

With the other five safely on the ship, and the attacks from the Ila limited to the planet itself, Keith was able to easily maneuver the fighter into Lotor’s ship’s docking bay. He burst out of the cockpit upon landing to help Acxa and Zethrid exit the ship, helping Ezor to support Acxa while Lotor and Narti ensured that Zethrid could get there of her own volition.

For once, Acxa didn’t protest about being carried into the med-bay. For his part, Keith stripped down to his flight-suit to let the sentries scan him, just in case.

The scan came back with no injuries detected, and there wasn’t much point in standing around. Keith made his way outside the med-bay, only to be joined by Lotor and Narti a few ticks later. “It seems we’re being kicked out,” Lotor commented easily, side-eyeing Keith with a tiny smile. “Will you walk with me, Keith?” he asked as Narti passed them, a previously-unseen Kova leaping from the shadows to trail at her ankles.

Keith spared a glance after Narti, then turned and nodded his assent to Lotor. “Sure,” he said.

A small smile crossed Lotor’s face, and Keith shivered, a strangely pleasant chill running down his spine.

Lotor set an aimless, meandering course through the ship, and Keith followed at his side, tongue‑tied in the wake of the silence between them, unsure of what to say. Not that he didn’t interact with Lotor on a regular basis – the prince was the most hands-on officer he’d ever met – but in general, their interactions were limited to briefing sessions, or group sparring, or missions. Lotor didn’t even eat in the mess with the rest of them, instead taking meals within his private quarters.

So it wasn’t that Keith was unused to Lotor’s presence, but they rarely interacted without the other generals around. Which, overall, was for the best. A full deca-phoeb had passed since that first unfortunate rush of desire he’d felt for the prince, and no matter what he did, the attraction wouldn’t go away – and the few times they’d interacted one-on-one had only made it worse.

“Your extraction today was masterful,” Lotor said unexpectedly, jarring Keith from his thoughts. “I know you’ve become our de facto pilot, but I only now realized I never thought to ask you if you like your position.”

Keith swallowed hard, his face heating. “I do,” he said, nodding. “I had some pilot training in boot camp, but never anything like this. It’s…” He hesitated, trying to find the words. How could he be expected to translate the rush, the complete freedom that came from soaring through the air and space, into words? Military life was constrained by necessity, even under Lotor’s fairly permissive command. Flying? Sure, there were rules to follow to keep from crashing or getting blown up, but within those rules, you could do _anything._

“I’m glad,” Lotor said after several seconds of silence. Keith ducked his head, his face positively flaming. “You don’t miss being on the ground?”

Keith frowned. “I like fighting on the front lines, sure,” he said. It was true – the next best thing to flying was falling into a steady rhythm with his sword in his hand. “But I like flying better.”

Lotor cast a strangely soft look at Keith, and Keith’s heart-rate ratcheted up. “I’m glad,” Lotor said. “Zethrid’s and Ezor’s preferred specialties were easy to pinpoint, but you and Acxa were harder to pin down.”

If his face got any hotter, it would start melting off, Keith thought distantly. “What, uh, what about Narti?” he asked, desperate to re-direct the conversation away from the _completely_ inappropriate image that popped into his head at Lotor’s words.

Lotor laughed lightly, his musical tone ringing in Keith’s ears. “Narti’s been my jack-of-all trades for deca-phoebs,” he said easily. “In all honestly, I’d like to employ her as a scout to collect generic information and feed it back to Ezor for spy missions. When Narti and Kova combine, their range is formidable.”

That… That actually made a lot of sense. “That’s not a bad idea,” Keith said.

Lotor hummed lightly. “I know,” he said. “Remind me, Keith – did I ever tell you how I came to trust Narti?”

Keith slowed slightly, eying Lotor warily. “You didn’t,” he said carefully, watching his commanding officer from the corners of his eyes.

Lotor smiled and huffed a tiny laugh, slowing to a stop. “Do know, I tell you this because I trust Narti, and I am beginning to trust you,” he said, his lips turning up in a smile that didn’t meet his eyes.

Keith swallowed, all-too aware that Lotor’s eyes followed the movement of his throat. “I’m not sure I follow,” he said carefully, meeting Lotor’s eyes.

Lotor shrugged. “It’s simple enough. I liberated Narti from the druids as a belonging of theirs, and then freed her. Once I freed her, she took me over and walked me out an airlock.” His smile widened. “Unlike with you, she did actually space me – luckily, I was in my suit. She left me drifting, resigned to death, for an entire quintant before bringing me back in and asking if she still retained her freedom, or if I would kill her. My trust for Narti comes from me ceding my power to her, her abusing it in a way that could kill me, and then her still bringing me back on and choosing to accept me as a superior officer.”

Keith stared at Lotor for a long moment, unsure of what to say. “That seems like it takes a pretty round-about way to gain your trust,” he said finally.

Lotor’s smile widened, and he let a tiny laugh slip from his lips. “I suppose it is. But it does mean that I trust Narti more than anyone,” he said. “And she brought you four to me – her confidence in you gave me a baseline level of trust,” he said. “But you, especially – since I brought you on, I haven’t been able to find even a tendril of ulterior motives. No connection to your planet, no family members who can be leveraged against you, nothing. As soon as you realized that you could speak against the main fleet in my presence, you did so. You form your loyalty around the people who earn it, rather than any cause, don’t you?”

Keith stood stock-still, staring at Lotor, who met his gaze. “I’m not sure how to reply,” he said finally, and he meant it. He knew the stock-military responses, and also knew that Lotor wasn’t interested in a stock-response.

“That’s because there is no official, sanctioned response,” Lotor said. He slowed to a halt, and turned to face Keith, reaching easily for him. Keith shivered as Lotor laid a hand on his shoulder. He should have put his armor back on after the scan – he could feel the heat from Lotor’s skin through his flight-suit. “I trust all of my top generals to an extent, of course,” Lotor said. “But you – you don’t have any former baggage preventing me from forming a true bond of trust. You’re like Narti, in that way.”

Keith swallowed hard. “Sir?” he asked cautiously.

“If I were to ask you to do something that the empire may find dubious, but that would befit this command,” Lotor said seriously, “would you question me?”

There was a right answer, here. But it wasn’t Keith’s answer, and from his time spent with Lotor, he knew that his honest answer was the better option – both in terms of maintaining his place in his command, and in being truthful to his commanding officer. “I’d stay loyal to you,” Keith said cautiously. If he was wrong and had given the incorrect answer, he could escape in a pod – he was confident enough by now that his flight skills would keep him alive.

Lotor relaxed, smiling at him. “That pleases me greatly, Keith,” Lotor said, resting his other hand on Keith’s free shoulder. Keith shivered instinctually, warmth fizzling through his entire body, emanating from the places where Lotor had laid contact with him. “And now that we’ve established this, I would like to ask you for a recommendation. What should we do with the Ila?”

Keith shivered slightly, reminding himself to focus. He couldn’t keep all his attention on the warm points of contact where Lotor’s hands met his shoulders. “The Ila called us down in bad faith, with the knowledge of burgeoning rebellions,” he said finally, shivering slightly as Lotor’s hands tightened on his shoulders. “Even the civilians knew, and failed to warn us. They dragged us on-planet with the plan to imprison us.”

Keith shuddered as Lotor’s claws unsheathed at his words, light pinpricks against his shoulders, neither clutching nor drawing blood. He took a few ragged breaths to gather himself. “Anyways,” Keith said, “we should send out an evacuation order for the civilians in areas without rebel presence, then raze the rest of the planet not occupied by civilian pockets, until they submit to us.”

Lotor hummed. “That is far more brutal than your usual strategies,” he said, regarding Keith curiously.

“Usually, the rebel groups aren’t working with the people who invited us to discuss terms in a neutral setting,” Keith said, tilting his chin slightly and locking eyes with Lotor.

“You do have a point.” Lotor took a step back, and Keith shivered as cool air brushed his shoulders where Lotor’s hands had rested. “I’ll begin work on a strike plan. We should prepare to begin our attack on the Ila tomorrow.”

Keith nodded and pressed his fist to his chest in salute. Lotor’s lips quirked up slightly and then, to Keith’s shock, returned the gesture. “Get some rest, Keith. You’ve earned it,” he said, before turning to walk down the halls to his quarters.

Keith stood stock-still for a moment, staring after Lotor. Had… Had his commanding officer really just returned his salute? Never once had Keith seen a superior officer salute one of their underlings. Even as Lotor turned the corner and vanished from sight, Keith couldn’t bring himself to move.

Finally, after what had to be several doboshes, he managed to unstick his feet from the floor and stumble back to his room. A sentry had returned his armor, he noted absently as he stripped off his flight-suit and boots.

After his shower, Keith threw himself onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, forcing himself to regulate his breathing and trying to let go of the memory of Lotor’s hands.

* * *

When Keith woke the next morning, Lotor had managed to develop a fully-developed plan to raze the planet and trash it into rubble before the inhabitants could scramble a secondary rebellion against the empire.

Three quintants later, the new Chief Diplomat of the Ila sent forth a message suing for peace. Keith kept his fighter hovering warningly over the charred ruins of the capitol building, ready to provide cover and support, and he searched for the familiar feeling within him that told him he’d made the right call.

From the fighter, he stared at the ruins of the city, surveying the scurrying rescue crews as they rushed about, extracting bodies and mangled survivors from the rubble. There was an air of complete desolation; even from high above the Ila planet, the despair was tangible in the way the survivors moved and worked, occasionally glancing up at the fighter before looking away with fear.

The sense of righteousness he usually felt after making a call just wasn’t there. Watching the despair of civilians and rebels alike from high above the capitol, Keith just felt hollow.

* * *

“Ugh, this is dumb.”

“Acxa, shush! This is the first entertainment frequency we’ve been able to access in phoebs, and I’m not giving it up!”

“I’m telling you, arena matches aren’t fun, and the commentary is embarrassing!”

If there was one good thing about the continuing relationship between Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid, it was that they could usually get their nonsense out in Acxa’s quarters. But now, with them taking over the rec room?

Ugh. Keith had wanted to get some reading in, but he couldn’t exactly concentrate with Ezor’s commentary.

“Hey, Keith!” Ezor called, her voice splitting across the room. “Come _on,_ apparently Sendak’s arena had a really good fight that he’s broadcasting across the empire. It’s _gotta_ be good, if the broadcast is being transmitted all the way out here.”

Ugh, a gladiator match. Aside from the exhibition matches between willing fighters, they were always so much of the same, juggernauts that fought predictable battles on some pretentious main-fleet commander’s ship for a few movements, until they inevitably got killed off in the arena by the newest meat. Great.

“Come on, Keith,” Zethrid wheedled, grinning at him. “How many times are you gonna go over that report, huh?”

It was only his second read-through, not that Keith wanted to admit it. “Fine,” he sighed, pocketing his data pad and crossing the few feet of space to the padded bench where Ezor, Zethrid, and Acxa sat. Narti stood behind the bench, Kova wrapped around her shoulders, somehow managing to convey without expression that she thought they were being ridiculous.

Keith wriggled between Ezor and Zethrid, grinning as Zethrid punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Hey, you wanted me to see this,” he argued.

“Yeah, I want someone to agree with me that this runt’s gonna make a name for himself,” Zethrid said easily.

“Sure, and we’ll look up the name they gave him if he won later. He’s _gonna_ die, though,” Ezor argued, her finger hovering over the play icon on her datapad.

No sooner did she activate the feed than the muted sounds of cheers from the arena ripped through the room. The commentator, a slightly pudgy reptilian galra droned on, the same sort of cheesy commentary that accompanied all these matches. Keith rolled his eyes, staring at the footage on the screen. A small biped dressed in prison-garb was up against a massive gladiator – Myzax, or something – and he winced, pre-emptively predicting the biped’s death.

The signal to start the match flashed, and the biped barely managed to avoid Myzax’s first blast from his energy-weapon. The alien dodged and rolled, whipping around the corner of the arena’s protrusions, using the arena environment to hide himself. “Poor bastard,” Keith muttered. The recording angle wasn’t great, but from the few seconds before the biped hid, he could tell that the alien was unfamiliar with his weapon.

“Poor bastard indeed,” Ezor hummed as Myzax ran towards the prisoner’s hiding spot, firing an orb of energy as he did so. “He has to hold his own for a while, though, or this wouldn’t have been transmitted out so far.”

“I still think the little guy has a chance at winning,” Zethrid argued. “No one bothers transmitting Myzax’s fights anymore – they’re too predictable. Send in a prisoner, they die, bam, it’s over too quickly.”

“You guys are worse than the commentators,” Acxa muttered.

Keith shifted uneasily as the biped dodged another energy orb. “I still don’t get the appeal of these matches,” he said, frowning.

“Hey, it’s better than reading reports all day,” Ezor said, jabbing Keith lightly with her elbow.

“I agree with Keith,” Acxa said as the biped whipped around another wall-protrusion. “There’s no sport in sending some untrained prisoner in to die against a career gladiator. Give me exhibition matches any day.”

They watched in silence for a while. “Little guy’s really holding out,” Ezor admitted after several doboshes of ducking and weaving and artful dodges.

“Called it,” Zethrid said, grinning.

“Hey. You haven’t won yet,” Ezor said, reaching over Keith to smack Zethrid lightly on the shoulder.

The alien took a hard hit from the energy orb and flew backwards, collapsing in an artless heap on the ground. “See? Told you,” Ezor said, grinning.

“He’s not dead, though,” Keith pointed out. He couldn’t see the creature’s face from the recording angle, but he was definitely stirring.

“He’s about to be,” Ezor muttered as Myzax ran heavily across the arena, his weapon raised.

The alien darted forward, sliding out of the way of the blast. Zethrid whooped, and Ezor groaned, as the prisoner dodged the next blast, moving with sudden purpose. No sooner did Myzax fire again than the alien leapt forward, slashing his sword through Myzax’s stomach. He drove the sword into Myzax’s right hand, knocking the weapon away, then stood, panting, over his prone opponent.

“Whoo!” Zethrid yelled as a burst of chatter from the commentators filled the room. “That’s 1300 GAC you owe me, Ezor!”

Ezor scowled. “I want a redo. No one in their right mind would have guessed the little one would win!” she complained.

_“Ezor,”_ Acxa admonished.

Keith, for his part, watched the screen as Myzax was dragged away by sentries. The prisoner hadn’t killed him; that, in itself, was interesting. The alien had collapsed as soon as the sentries came for Myzax, curled up tightly enough that all Keith could see was his prisoner’s garb. Idly, Keith realized that throughout the entire fight, the angles had kept him from actually seeing any of the prisoner’s features. That would probably change in the future, if he started to gain notoriety in the arena.

Then two of the sentries came forward to raise the prisoner to his knees, supporting him as he swayed in place. The recording angle changed, zooming in on the prisoner’s exhausted face, and Keith went rigid. “What?” he whispered, staring at the prisoner.

Ezor and Zethrid immediately quit their bickering, both turning their heads to stare at him. Keith barely noticed, busy as he was staring at the drained, very _human_ face of the prisoner on screen. He reached forward with one shaking finger to pause the recording. Yep – that was definitely a human. Apparently the Empire had taken over Earth, now.

He wasn’t sure why he felt something sink in his chest at that idea.

“Keith?” Acxa asked after nearly a dobosh of Keith staring at the screen. “Are you okay?”

He was fine. He was definitely fine. “Yeah,” he said, almost alarmed at how hoarse his words came out. “I just.” He swallowed hard and shook his head. “Looks like the Empire finally took my father’s planet,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. He stared at the human on the screen before him, and couldn’t help but wonder what his story was.

Immediately, Ezor jerked the data pad away and closed the screen. “I am so, so sorry, Keith!” she exclaimed, her voice high. Keith barely had a tick to brace himself before she launched herself at him, her arms circling him in a vice-like grip. Keith grunted as the wind was knocked out of him. “We wouldn’t have watched it, and definitely wouldn’t have asked you to watch, if we knew one of the fighters was from your other species!”

Keith shook his head. “Can’t breathe,” he grunted. Ezor loosened her arms slightly in response, and Keith relaxed. “It’s fine,” he added. “The only human I ever knew was my Dad, and he’s dead. It’s not like I knew the prisoner, or anything. This was just… Kind of a shock.”

“It’s really not fine,” Zethrid said, sounding apologetic. Keith glanced up at her, and sucked in a sharp breath of alarm; not once had he ever seen Zethrid flatten her ears to her head like this. Regret was a strange look on her, and Keith didn’t like it. “There’s a rule Ezor and I had in place from the beginning – we don’t watch gladiator battles involving a member of our non-galra parent’s species.”

Keith took a deep, unsteady breath. “It’s okay,” he said. “It was just a shock, you know? I didn’t think I’d ever see a human again.” He laughed breathlessly, dimly aware of the almost panic-like pressure building in his chest. “Earth wasn’t a Galra-controlled planet – I guess I just never thought about this happening.” He took another deep breath, and another, the image of the shell‑shocked human burned into his brain.

Something pressed against Keith’s shoulder; he glanced back, and realized that Narti had laid a gentle, grounding hand on him. Kova leapt from Narti’s shoulders to sit on Keith’s thighs, watching him for a long moment with intelligent eyes before curling up on Keith’s lap, emitting a rhythmic pattern of vibrations. Shakily, Keith stroked the animal’s fur. With each repetition, his heart rate slowed, and he could breathe more easily.

“Better?” Acxa asked quietly as Keith relaxed, letting his back press against the back of the bench.

Keith nodded his assent. “Yeah,” he said shakily. “Sorry – I don’t know what that was about.”

Ezor shook her head, her expression still worried. “Okay, no more watching gladiator matches that have the little guy,” she proclaimed. “For all of us,” she added, glancing at Zethrid.

To Keith’s surprise, Zethrid nodded her assent. “Agreed,” she said. “Not even in private. Let’s all just assume this guy makes a name for himself and manages to live to old age.”

Old age – now that was a joke, for an arena fighter. Then again, it was somewhat of a joke for a member of the Galra military. Keith slumped back against the bench further, absently stroking Kova. “Let’s just never talk about this again,” he suggested.

“Agreed,” Ezor said. Seemingly from nowhere, she produced a set of Slaigart playing cards. “Anyone up for a game of Tundrip?”

_Prepare to lose._ Narti circled around from the back of the bench to join them, turning her blank face to each of them in turn. Keith couldn’t help but shudder – yeah, it was hard to beat Narti at Slaigart games, and Tundrip was no exception.

But it wasn’t like any of them to let a challenge go unaccepted. Even though Narti won a solid four of their five games, putting Keith out a full 2,000 GAC by the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So begins the new update schedule of updating on Saturdays rather than Fridays! I considered splitting this chapter into two parts, because I'm not sure the scenes really make sense to have in the same chapter, but that would have made for two very short chapters, so I chose to keep them together. That said, I have comments on both sections.
> 
> Keith. Keith. Gratuitous violence is not the answer. You know this.
> 
> Me: I hate it when people make Shiro's trauma about the other paladins!  
> Also me: *Makes Shiro's trauma about Keith*  
> Whoops?


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission goes sideways.
> 
> Lotor chooses to trust his team.

It wasn’t often that Lotor and his generals were called in personally to assist in conquering a planet, but as it turned out, the Laphisians were more warlike than expected, and Commander Slanx had put in a call for help nearly a quintant ago, citing an entire overrun company and desperate need for backup. Between the deployable sentries, the generals, and Lotor himself, they should surely have enough people to take down the Laphisians and secure an agreeable meeting with the Laphisian monarch.

At least, that’s how it had seemed from the files they had. Keith snarled, hacking at the ferocious rock-creature nearly twice his size, dodging the powerful fist that came swinging at his head. The reality of the situation was a _lot_ worse than the briefing had implied. Despite the lack of contact the Laphisians had had with outsiders, centuries of civil war and in-fighting had produced some fairly lethal – if primitive – weapons and fighting techniques.

Keith spun around behind his opponent, grimacing as sweat trickled down his face, dangerously close to his eye. He managed to wedge his blade behind the Laphisian’s knee, sending the creature to the ground, then wrenched his blade free and ran towards the distinct sound of blasters. The sentries and Commander Slanx’s soldiers could handle the rest of this group – and Acxa and Zethrid could probably use some backup.

Sure enough, as Keith sprinted towards the sound of blasters, he spotted Zethrid nearly surrounded by a group of Laphisians, all armed with either their odd projectile weapons or an oddly shaped, glinting knife. Keith unleashed a loud cry as he stabbed the nearest Laphisian clean through the midsection, then took up position next to Zethrid. His grimaced as a projectile glanced off his armor, his breastplate vibrating from the impact.

At least now it was two on… How many Laphisians were there? Fifteen, twenty? Keith slashed at the nearest Laphisian’s neck-crevice, grimacing as his sword caught in the alien’s rocky skin. At least when he wrenched the blade free, the Laphisian went down, mortally wounded.

“Good on you joining the fight, Keith!” Zethrid panted as she fired her blaster rapidly at the wave of advancing Laphisians, grunting with the effort of maintaining her pace without stumbling backwards.

Keith brought his sword up in time to deflect a projectile from the nearest Laphisian. “Sorry, I forgot you needed me to watch your six,” he replied, darting forward and stabbing at the Laphisian in front of him; the alien leapt backwards, snarling, before throwing his dagger at Keith. Keith deflected the knife and drove further forward, burying his blade in the alien’s chest.

“Where are the others?” Keith asked, risking a glance at Zethrid as he wrenched his blade free from the prone Laphisian.

Zethrid grunted. “Acxa and Narti went after a group of runners to take hostages, and I’m not sure where Ezor is. I think Lotor got caught up in a fight in that building on the right!” she managed, jerking her head at a small clay structure before pushing her way forward. She roared as she increased fire on the remaining Laphisians, who seemed to be drawing back as if to regroup.

Keith took the opportunity to bolt into the aforementioned building, its walls ruined and smoking. Idly, Keith thought that before it had taken galran fire, the structure had probably been a house. Directly in front of him, in the circular main room, Lotor dodged and wove between three Laphisians, each armed with one of their odd daggers.

Keith kept his sprint as he ran forward, building up momentum before dropping to his knees, continuing to slide, and slicing the tendons of one of the three Laphisians fighting Lotor. The creature dropped to the ground; the one actively engaging Lotor didn’t turn, but the other spun around and charged at Keith with its dagger, yelling something incomprehensible.

Keith leapt to his feet even as he brought up his sword to block the knife. He blocked the next strike and thrust forward with his sword, clipping the creature’s hard outer body. “Come on,” he growled, blocking the next strike and pushing off the wall to strike at the creature’s side, making a hard dent in its stony exterior. Zarkon on the Throne, this Laphisian’s outer shell was _tough._ “At least make it –”

Keith cried out and nearly dropped his sword as his scalp lit up with a blaze of pain. His head burned, and he just barely registered the sensation of enormous fingers gripping his hair as he was dragged backwards by a fourth, previously unseen Laphisian. He cursed, kicking at his captor, who knocked his sword from his hand with one blow then lifted its knife to his throat. Keith went still in the Laphisian’s grasp, glaring furiously ahead. Even the slightest motion sent agony shooting through his scalp, and he had to begrudgingly appreciate that somehow, these giant rock-aliens had gotten the drop on him.

In front of him, Lotor leapt back, raising his hands unexpectedly. “Yield!” he shouted, dropping his sword and staring at Keith’s captor with wide eyes.

Keith made an abortive attempt to jerk free, cut short by the agony that flared in his scalp. He stared at Lotor with shock – what was he _doing?_

The Laphisian in front of Lotor stepped back, its bulky face shifting into some unreadable expression. Keith clenched his teeth as the Laphisian holding him tightened its grip on his hair, yanking hard against his burning scalp, and pressed its knife just a bit harder against his skin.

“You want this one back, don’t you?” the Laphisian that had confronted Lotor asked. “You demons always have your price. I’m not sure who summoned you and your other demons, but you will be sent back to the end-world! Tell us the ritual to send you back, or I will sink my blessed blade into this demon’s throat!”

Almost immediately, Keith’s mind flashed back to the files he’d seen regarding the Laphisians – of course. They were a race that had never before encountered life from another planet, and they had a strict mystical belief system regarding some sort of ethereal demons that occasionally walked the planet, doing harm. Okay, so, that’s what they thought was happening. They thought the galra were demons. Good to know. Maybe they could confirm negotiations with them based on their belief system, somehow. “Lotor,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not worth this.”

Lotor ignored him. “There’s no ritual to banish us, but I swear to you, if you release him, we will leave your planet,” the prince said, his hands still raised in surrender.

The Laphisian behind Lotor raised its projectile weapon, and Keith could practically feel the blood drain from his own face. “Stop!” he cried, jerking futilely in his captor’s grasp. The Laphisian paused, and Keith met Lotor’s eyes. “Lotor, get somewhere safe. I swear, I’ll figure something out. I can...” Keith grimaced. “I can, um, tell them banishment ritual myself.” Yeah, okay. What in a druid’s-burnt-out-lab kind of things went into a ritual?

He’d just make something up.

“Keith,” Lotor protested.

_“Go!”_ Keith yelled. “You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep worrying about me! I’ll be fine!”

Lotor stared at him for a long moment, but then he nodded and bent to retrieve his sword. “Don’t harm him,” Lotor said to the Laphisians, sounding genuinely shaken. Then he turned, half-running from the building. Knowing that Lotor would be fine – at least, for the moment – Keith could relax, to some degree.

The Laphisian dug the tip of its knife into Keith’s skin, drawing blood. “The ritual to send you demons back to the end-world. Now,” it ordered.

“None of your other rituals worked, huh?” Keith asked, only for the Laphisian to tighten its grip on his hair, sending another, stronger flare of pain through his scalp. He hissed with pain. “Look, the “ritual” is literally just to let us go back to our ship. We aren’t demons. Let us go, and we’ll leave.”

“You lie.” Keith flinched as the Laphisian dug the blade in further. “Feel the burn, demon? This is blessed sécrite. Tell me the ritual!”

Keith cursed internally. “You,” he began, his mind whiting out. Okay, he could do this. He could come up with some ritual off the top of his head. Rituals tended to involve pomp and circumstance, right?

The knife bit in further, and panic rose in his chest. “I, um.” He cursed inwardly. “Um, a willing dancer has to dance on, uh, consecrated ground, then shed some of their own blood!” he said desperately. That… that could definitely be a ritual, held by some culture somewhere, right?

“Dancer? Dance?” the Laphisian asked, uncomprehending, but at least the knife didn’t dig in any further.

“Blood?” another Laphisian asked, squinting suspiciously

Right – rock people. They probably didn’t have blood the way most organic species did. But he had the aliens’ attention. “Yeah. A dancer is someone who, uh, moves rhythmically. That’s dancing. They have to move in rhythm to repetitive noise,” he said. “On consecrated ground. And blood is like… the stuff that’s underneath the rocks?” he finished lamely. Hopefully, the Laphisians had some sort of equivalent.

The Laphisian who’d been fighting Lotor eyed Keith suspiciously. “I will do this,” it said. It nodded at the Laphisian still holding Keith by the hair. “Qull. Keep hold of it.” The Laphisian turned on its heel and exited the hub.

The three remaining Laphisians were silent, and even the noise of the battle outside seemed suspiciously quiet. The Laphisian Keith had been fighting before his captor grabbed him knelt on the ground, tending to the one whose tendons Keith had slashed. Maybe if he wasn’t being held at knife-point with fiery pain racing through his head, Keith would feel bad about causing that sort of crippling injury.

Several doboshes passed, and then the explosions began to ratchet back up. Keith’s captor leapt back with a snarl, releasing his hair, and Keith nearly fell forward, his hands coming up to his scalp. He allowed himself to scratch gentle, soothing patterns against the skin with his extended claws. “What does this mean?” the Laphisian demanded furiously. “Demon! Is this supposed to happen?”

The Laphisian who had left to perform Keith’s ‘ritual’ burst back into the small hub. “The demon lied! And their metal ones are rising from the dead!” the Laphisian yelled.

Apparently, someone had performed a hard reset on the sentries they’d brought. That was helpful.

The room exploded with confusion, and Keith took the opportunity to lunge upwards and sprint for the exit, dodging the few Laphisians with the presence of mind to try to stop him. Almost directly in front of the building, their clunky transport ship hung low, only a few feet from the ground. Keith leapt aboard, managing a nod for his fellow generals and those of Slanx’s soldiers that had also crammed onto the transport ship, then sprinted to the cockpit, currently occupied by a very focused Lotor.

Later, maybe he would regret his actions. For now, Keith felt no remorse about forcibly shoving Lotor away from the controls. “Sorry, sir,” he muttered as he began typing furiously, programming their ships sentries to extract the remaining Galra fighters from the planet. The cruiser could function as a temporary base until they had determined the best way to start up diplomacy with these freaking sentient _rocks._ Clearly, offensive measures weren’t the best way to annex these people.

“Keith,” Lotor breathed, sounding almost disbelieving. “You’re all right?”

Keith nodded, the majority of his focus going to dodging the projectiles being fired at the unwieldy transport ship and bringing the craft safely out of the atmosphere. Not that the primitive projectiles were likely to damage a Galra ship, but evasive maneuvers were practically habit. “I’m fine. The sentries will get anyone left on the surface into fighters and back to the ship.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lotor nod. Keith exhaled, and focused his attention on maneuvering to the docking bay. “We’ll be docking shortly. It might be a good idea to offer our med-bay to any critically injured soldiers, so they don’t have to wait until they can get back to Slanx’s ship.”

Lotor exhaled behind him. “Good plan,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically thin and strained. Keith made a mental note to ensure that Lotor visited the med-bay himself after they docked.

Keith easily docked the fighter in the ship’s bay, then unsealed the hatch, letting the rescued soldiers make their way en masse to the med-bay. Several of the soldiers had to be carried out, and in a way, it was a relief to know they’d get basic treatment before having to head back to Slanx’s ship. Keith waited until everyone had exited his ship before climbing out the hatch himself. He wasn’t surprised by the overbearing emptiness of the docking bay – even Acxa surely wouldn’t fight the med-bay, at this point.

But he hadn’t expected to see Lotor there, his shoulders hunched as he stared after the soldiers, the slumped lines of his body almost dejected. “Sir?” Keith asked cautiously.

Lotor straightened. “Keith,” he said, sounding almost relieved.

“Sir, I –”

Keith cut off almost immediately, the words fizzling in his throat, as Lotor launched across the space between them, folding Keith in his arms. Keith nearly choked as Lotor drew him in against his chest, his heart hammering as Lotor gripped him tightly in what could only be called a _hug._

Tentatively, Keith let his hands rest around Lotor’s waist, only for Lotor’s grip to tighten around him. Lotor craned his neck forward, burying his face in Keith’s shoulder, and Keith didn’t know what to do. He clutched tightly at Lotor’s back, which seemed a futile exercise.

“I thought I’d – we’d – lost you,” Lotor murmured, his breath warm against Keith’s shoulder, his words igniting something within Keith’s being. “Don’t do that again, please,” Lotor added, his claws digging in, noticeable through the flexible fabric of Keith’s abdominal armor.

Keith hesitated, struggling to find a response. He didn’t have one – not one that was appropriate, in this circumstance. Then again, being held by his commanding officer was hardly appropriate itself – maybe he didn’t need to reply? Keith sighed and let himself melt into Lotor’s arms, accepting the contact with Lotor’s unarmored body-suit. It was improper on so many levels, but Keith figured he could allow himself a moment of weakness after the battle.

Eventually, Keith began to draw back, only for Lotor to tighten his arms around him. “I need to go, Lotor,” Keith murmured quietly. “I need to assess the transport ship for damage.”

Lotor stiffened, but he withdrew his arms and cleared his throat, refusing to look at Keith. “Of course,” he said. “Tomorrow, we’ll take this planet. I need to plan,” he added, looking anywhere but at Keith.

Keith, for his part, couldn’t help but stare at Lotor. Whatever had just transpired between them, it was so far beyond the realm of protocol. “Plan. Right,” he said, unable to tear his eyes away from Lotor’s arms – arms that had just been wrapped around him.

Lotor offered a ghost of a smile. “Get some rest, after you assess the transport,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “You’ve more than earned it, today. We’ll speak again at the briefing tomorrow.” Lotor hesitated for a moment, then clapped his fist to his chest in salute. “Vrepit sa,” he said.

Keith frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. “I thought –”

“Remember its true meaning, Keith,” Lotor said quietly.

_There is a purpose to your suffering._ The sentiment hadn’t left Keith’s mind since Lotor had first offered it. He didn’t exactly count this battle as suffering, per se, but a part of him softened at the sentiment. “I understand, sir,” he said quietly. “We’ll make this count.”

Lotor nodded at him. “You should also stop by the med-bay, maybe even before assessing the ship,” Lotor said quietly. “For ointment, if nothing else. The cuts on your neck could use the attention.”

Keith raised his fingertips to his neck, brushing over the superficial wounds that the Laphisians had inflicted. “I will,” he promised.

The smile that Lotor offered in response was tinged with sadness. “I’ll see you in the morning, Keith,” Lotor said.

Keith pressed his fist to his chest in salute, then turned to make his way to the med-bay. Sure, the cuts to his neck were superficial, but if Lotor thought he should seek treatment – even if it was just soothing ointment – then who was he to complain?

* * *

As expected, between Lotor and Commander Slanx, the Empire was able to pacify the planet within the next few movements. A quota of Laphisians would be pulled each deca-phoeb to work in the factories producing weapons, and each Laphisian would be relieved of its duty after five deca-phoebs. Keith read over the orders multiple times, and tried to remind himself that the quotas were for temporary work, and not equivalent to slavery.

* * *

The call to the briefing room was uncharacteristic of their time under Lotor’s command.  Keith eyed the other generals, especially Zethrid and Narti as the two flanking him, as they all stood in the briefing room. Before most missions, they were briefed on the training deck, or in the docking bay. The briefing room proper was insulated and free from recording devices, a freedom afforded for classified missions – but not once, since coming into Lotor’s command, had any of them been sent on classified missions.

Only Narti seemed comfortable with the situation. Keith exchanged another glance with Zethrid, then shifted slightly, clasping his hands behind his back. Deviation from the norm rarely meant anything good, in the galra military.

The back doors hissed open, and Lotor entered the briefing room, waving a hand to ensure that the doors closed behind him. “Please, be at ease,” he said, his deep voice casual and reassuring. “I would like to speak to you as equals, before discussing our newest mission.”

Narti was the first to relax, taking a step back and raising a hand to idly pet Kova where he lay curled around her shoulders. Keith took a deep breath, releasing the tension from his body even as Ezor and Zethrid relaxed.

Acxa remained rigid, though she withdrew her hand from her blaster. Lotor eyed her for a long moment and then, seemingly accepting of her wariness, turned to address the other generals. “We’ve fought together for well over a deca-phoeb,” he said easily. “All of you work well together, and with me. And I have discussed the empire with each of you, and found it wanting.” Keith clenched his fists, his claws threatening to unsheath, but Lotor offered each of them a reassuring smile. “I don’t easily put my trust in my associates, but each of you has earned it, and I hope I’ve earned yours. I have a mission I need to complete, but I require generals who will put their trust in me before the empire. I think you all have earned that position.”

No one spoke. Axca stood tense, ready to run, while Zethrid and Ezor eyed Lotor with cautious interest. Narti’s face was turned to Lotor, but she at least seemed at ease as she stroked Kova. Keith took a deep breath and focused on regulating his breathing. Lotor saying he trusted them was a good thing.

And, if Keith was being honest, he was pretty sure that against all common sense, he trusted Lotor too.

Something flickered in Lotor’s eyes, almost like unease. “You can relax, you know,” he said, a slight undercurrent of wariness threading through his overtly carefree tone. “It’s not as if I’m going to turn you over to my father – quite the opposite.” Lotor straightened, and stared directly at them. “I would just prefer to not be completely without allies when I betray the empire.”

The temperature of the room seemed to drop. Keith took an instinctive step back, his fur rising. Zethrid and Ezor had both gone completely still, and Narti remained unchanged, unmoving.

Betray the empire? It was unthinkable! How could anyone stand against the full might of the Galra Army, much less its hundreds of thousands of allied planets?

Then again, many of those planets were more occupied than allied – the majority, even. Fragments of thoughts whipped through Keith’s head, contradictory and ill-formed but all searching for the right answer.

To Keith’s surprise, Acxa relaxed completely and took a step forward. “You won’t be,” she said. “The empire has brought nothing but misery to the universe under Zarkon’s rule. I’ll follow you.”

Did he really have anything to lose by refusing? Maybe ten percent of the systems in the empire had allied of their own volition. Under Zarkon’s rule, thousands of planets had been enslaved and oppressed – including, it seemed, his own. And for what? Expansion, for its own sake? That wasn’t a good enough reason, or even a reason at all.

Keith swallowed hard, his reservations fleeting in the face of the rage that warmed his blood at the thought of all the empire had done. “I’m in,” he said, stepping forward and saluting.

Narti walked past them all and laid one hand on Lotor’s shoulder. Lotor turned his head to look at her, his expression fond.

“Well, when have I ever turned down a bigger, harder fight?” Keith huffed out a laugh as Zethrid stepped forward, clasping her hands together and grinning.

“What happens if we say no?”

Keith turned, at that. Ezor stood in place, defensive, her arms folded across her chest.

Lotor was silent for a long moment. “If you say no,” he said, his voice eerily flat, “then I cannot force you to accept. I will not conscript my armies like my father.”

What was Ezor _doing?_ Was she seriously going to choose the Empire over Lotor – over all of them? She was the farthest thing from a coward – would she seriously balk _now?_

“Hm,” Ezor said, her voice as blank as Lotor’s. “So if I say no, what, will you put me to death?” she asked.

“No,” Lotor said immediately, nearly cutting her off. “If you wish to leave, I will drop you off at the nearest planet with a breathable atmosphere and provide you with supplies and a communicator, albeit with a freshly wiped memory, so you can return to the fleet.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Not that memory wipes are foolproof. I’d hoped to have at least a few deca-phoebs to start this operation and gain resources before going into hiding, but –”

“I’m in,” Ezor said. “Sorry, but, you know. Consider it a test,” she said, offering a cheeky grin.

Something tight loosened in Keith’s chest. “Zarkon on the Throne, Ezor, you scared the life out of me,” he breathed.

“Me too,” Zethrid said, sounding shaken.

Acxa cleared her throat. “We should find a better saying than that,” she said. “You know, ‘Zarkon on the Throne,’” she added as Keith, Zethrid, and Ezor turned to look at her in confusion. “If we’re rebelling against him, maybe we shouldn’t say that.”

It was such a common saying, Keith didn’t even think about it anymore. The words were meaningless, a constant, a way of expressing disbelief with a statement of the obvious.

Yeah, they needed to change it up. It would be ridiculous to say something that implied Zarkon’s omnipotence while they worked to take him down.

“So, what, replace it with Lotor on the Throne?” Ezor offered.

Behind Keith, Lotor snorted, uncharacteristically inelegant. “I think that’s a bit presumptuous. I started this rebellion, what, five doboshes ago?”

“I’m sure you’ve had some kind of plan in the works for a while,” Keith said dryly. “You didn’t recruit us specifically, then suddenly decide you wanted to rebel last night.”

Lotor laughed. “I suppose you’re right about that,” he said.

Acxa cleared her throat. “What if we replace it with ‘Liberate the Throne?’” she offered. “Just among ourselves.”

Zethrid rumbled approvingly. “I like it,” she said. Narti inclined her head in agreement, and Zethrid grinned at her.

“This is silly,” Lotor said, but Keith could practically hear his smile. “I do have an _actual_ mission I would like to brief you on.”

Keith straightened and turned around to face Lotor with the others. “And that is?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Spots of purple rose in Lotor’s cheeks, to Keith’s surprise. “It’s something completely unlike our ordinary missions,” Lotor said, and Zarkon on the – no, Liberate the Throne, Lotor sounded almost _nervous._ “True, to remain our cover, we will have to pacify planets from time to time. And I do think it wise that we continue to bring planets into the Empire, albeit with seemingly harmless language that swears them to me, rather than my father.” He frowned. “And only those who are truly interested will be brought in. I’ll find a way to keep from enslaving words without raising suspicions.”

“Okay, but you said these missions are nothing like those,” Ezor said, frowning at him. “So what exactly are we doing?”

Lotor smiled at her. “Of course,” he said. “Tell me – and Narti, I know you know as much as I do – what do the rest of you know about quintessence?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're getting somewhere!
> 
> The next several chapters in general might be shorter than normal, just FYI. I'm about to start a new job, which essentially means the stress in my life is going to shoot up exponentially until I get used to my new routine, which probably means I won't have a lot of energy to write. I figured that between shorter chapters and the same update schedule, and a modified update schedule with more time between chapters, most people would prefer the former. If you would rather I keep writing long chapters and post them, say, biweekly or monthly, let me know and I will take it into consideration.
> 
> ETA 6 October 2018: Now with [some incredible fanart!](http://lidoshka.tumblr.com/post/178757167659/lotor-is-so-glad-general-keith-is-fine-fanart-for/)


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor and the generals discuss quintessence. Lotor begins to take a more active part in bonding with his team.

Quintessence. Even after Lotor explained the strange power source, Keith could still hardly wrap his head around it.

He’d never thought much about what powered the ships, or the tech within the ships, or even the portable tech he accessed on a daily basis. He supposed that intellectually, he’d known something powered all their tech – he’d received rudimentary talk about electricity and being off-the-grid from his father back on Earth, when he’d read about computers and questioned why they didn’t have one. But this – this was so far beyond his experience or expectations.

A drop of quintessential energy could power a whole fleet for _deca-phoebs._ From Lotor’s talk, the study of quintessence had once been an admirable pursuit designed to power the empire. As it was now, the empire was stockpiling quintessence, gathering planets under the guise of expanding the empire, and slowly harvesting the energy of both planets and people alike, just to empower Zarkon and his witch Haggar, and whatever they meant to do.

“It sounds… I don’t know, kind of unbelievable,” Ezor said finally, after they’d all taken a few doboshes to let this new information settle.

Lotor offered a humorless smile. “Some of my earliest memories are of my mother Honerva’s study of quintessence. I’m sure you’ve encountered it in some form – it does fuel all the Imperial ships. It’s imported when needed to every base and fleet, though I doubt any but a few per station know what it is.”

Keith’s former base had received deliveries every few phoebs – primarily foodstuffs and general supplies. If the base had received a delivery of quintessence, he hadn’t known about it.

“I think I have encountered it,” Acxa said suddenly, her brow furrowing. “Glowing purple liquid? I helped unload a classified shipment once.”

Lotor nodded. “Yes, it’s purple once the druids refine it,” he said, his expression twisting with distaste. “Their methods are so… crass.” He shook his head. “At any rate, if we want to overthrow my father, we will need our own supply. Stealing from his supply lines will both hinder his expansion and serve our cause, but if we intend to take the empire ourselves, we will eventually need our own, steady sources.” He grimaced. “Sources that don’t involve stealing unreasonable amounts of quintessence from living beings, like the druids do.”

“How do we go about that?” Keith asked. Less than a varga ago, he hadn’t even known this stuff existed – finding new supply sources sounded daunting.

“I have some old Alte – some books from my mother’s people that can provide a start,” Lotor said, “but the most efficient way to harvest quintessence is to pull it from an inter-reality rift.”

“Inter-reality?” Acxa injected.

Lotor just smiled. “Let’s just say I learned a great deal from my mother’s experiments, for now,” he said. “That’s a long-term issue. I’ll handle it for now.”

Keith wasn’t sure how to feel about the concept of some sort of inter-reality explanation. If he was honest, it sounded like the plot of a bad science fiction novel from Earth – he’d read plenty of those as a child. But on the other hand, Lotor seemed completely assured of his words, his face seeming to glow brighter with every word. Keith shivered, his stomach twisting pleasantly.

“What about the short term?” Zethrid asked.

Lotor laughed lightly. “I imagine you’ll enjoy this, Zethrid,” he said. “For now, I’ve located three quintessence suppliers vulnerable to attack. Two should be easy enough to destroy completely, after liberating the quintessence they already have. The third might require some stealth, but it should be simple enough to take the quintessence from that supplier after it’s harvested.”

“Why can’t we blow up the third one?” Zethrid asked, curious.

Lotor’s lips quirked upward slightly. “Because it’s located on a Balmera,” he said.

A Balmera – Keith had heard of those. The giant creatures weren’t common, but their inhabitants were generally easy enough to pacify, making them desirable targets for expansion of the empire. “So we can’t blow that supplier up, because it would destroy the Balmera,” he said aloud.

Lotor inclined his head. “That, and the quintessence harvested from that Balmera is used to power my father’s ship and extend his life. I don’t want him looking too closely at our activities, and he’d certainly send his cronies to sniff around if we destroyed his primary source of personal quintessence.”

Practical, Keith had to admit. “When do we start?” he asked.

“I’ll draw up a viable battle plan for the first supplier within the next quintant or so,” Lotor said. “I have a few mock-ups but, well, I needed to know which of you would be joining me first,” he said. His expression softened. “I’m glad it was all of you.”

* * *

Breaking pattern, Lotor joined the generals for dinner that evening. A part of Keith froze, anticipating awkwardness, when the prince made for their table, rather than taking his meal to his room. Then Lotor dropped into a seat beside Narti and offered the group a small smile. “Do you mind if I join you?” he asked, raising his eyebrows slightly at the dumbfounded looks on their faces.

Ezor was the first to recover. “No, go ahead! It’s your ship, you know,” she reminded him.

Keith snorted at that. “A few vargas ago, we all agreed to rebel against the Empire together. Eating together’s not a problem.”

Zethrid snickered, and Lotor’s smile widened, his face easing. “I’d like to make more of a habit of joining you in group endeavors, now that I know I can trust you,” he said, before popping a bite of the mess's monstrosity into his mouth.

_Who says you can trust us?_ Narti tilted her head playfully, the amusement in her thoughts belying her words.

Lotor swallowed. “Ah, yes, of course – how foolish of me. I’m sure, Narti, that you have every intention of betraying me,” he said, shaking his head.

In response, Narti raised her arm in salute – her left arm. Keith’s jaw dropped, and he stared at her – what kind of _audacity?_

_“Narti!”_ Acxa and Ezor exclaimed in tandem, scandalized.

“Your rudeness wounds me,” Lotor said, amused, before returning the inverse salute himself.

Maybe he should be scandalized; instead, laughter built in his stomach, and Keith had to press a hand over his mouth to keep giggles from erupting forth. In a way, he supposed the inverse salute shouldn’t be seen as an insult on this ship anymore. After all, was it so insulting to called an embarrassment of a galra and a disgrace to the Empire when both were true?

Before Keith could say anything, Zethrid beat him to the punch. “Seems like a compliment now, doesn’t it?” she said, baring her teeth happily. “We’re all terrible half-breeds, getting ready to crush the Empire to dust, right?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Acxa said, but smiled anyways.

Keith cleared his throat. “Speaking of that, how long have you been planning to betray the Empire?” he asked, turning to meet Lotor’s gaze.

Something warm and content bubbled in Keith’s chest as Lotor offered him a soft smile. “I’ve wanted to rebel since I came out of cryostasis and met Narti,” he said easily. His smile faded, and he averted his gaze somewhat. “The empire I knew – the empire of nearly ten thousand deca-phoebs ago – has been warped and twisted into something wholly unrecognizable and abhorrent. Not that it was pleasant to begin with, but back then there was some semblance of honor and decency.”

Narti laid a hand on Lotor’s shoulder. She inclined her head when Lotor turned to face her; Lotor, for his part, let out a small, humorless laugh. “You’re right. The past is the past. We need to worry about the upcoming future – namely, how to get enough power to face my father as a credible threat.”

“With this quintessence stuff, right?” Zethrid asked.

“Quintessence, and allies,” Lotor said, inclining his head. “Unless we, say, stumble across Voltron, we’re not going to be able to take down my father without help.”

Keith huffed an amused laugh. “What, six half-breeds and one cruiser aren’t enough to take down the billions of galra loyal to Zarkon?” he joked.

_We could always clone ourselves until we outnumber them._ Infectious amusement colored Narti’s thoughts, and Keith found himself laughing alongside the others.

“Now, that’s just unrealistic!” Ezor said, swiping at her eyes. “What if we put the wrong Lotor on the throne?”

Lotor covered his eyes with one hand, his shoulders shaking with amusement. “Of course – that is the main concern behind simply cloning ourselves until we outnumber my father’s people,” he said, amused. “Not the unpredictability of cloning, or the tendency clones have to develop their own ideals, or any such thing.”

“Of course not,” Acxa said quietly, her voice perfectly level. “When have any of those things presented a problem in an empire cloning project?” If Keith didn’t know her so well, he might even think she meant what she was saying.

Conversation continued in a similar vein, light-hearted and distracting enough that Keith barely noticed the stale texture and rancid taste of the food on his plate. Spending time with the generals had come naturally from the start; now, with Lotor amongst them almost as an equal, it seemed as though some sort of missing piece had slotted into place. Easy friendship had shifted; now there was a goal, a plan of action.

Their group no longer just felt natural, Keith mused. It felt _right,_ as if the universe had aligned to bring them all together at the same time, united under a common goal.

Keith had never been much for mysticism or spirituality, but in that moment, it almost seemed like destiny itself had brought them together to take down Zarkon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm... really not satisfied with this chapter. If I have time, I'll probably try to go back and flesh out the parts that felt thin or otherwise awkward to me. Apologies - this whole new job thing is seriously taking all my mental energy. Whose idea was it to let me become an adult?
> 
> Feedback is appreciated!


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they head to the Balmera to hit a quintessence supply line, Lotor and the generals pass the time with games of strategy.

Lotor hadn’t been wrong about the first two supply lines. It had been easy enough for Keith to hang back as support, as the pilot to get them out, while Zethrid slaughtered the sentries and the rest of the generals loaded the quintessence onto the ship.

The trip to the Balmera was slow, as the ship followed a winding, round-about course, set with multiple stops. Ostensibly, Lotor was visiting some of his planets closer to the empire proper, controlled by Zarkon. It was the only way to justify a course that would land them within the proximity of the Balmera – and even that, Lotor had warned them, was risky.

Well, it wasn’t like any of them had thought that rebelling against the empire would come without risks. Still, by the fifth proxy visit to one of Lotor’s more stable planets, Keith was just about ready to rip his fur out with frustration.

Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one. No sooner had Keith docked the pod in the cruiser’s docking bay than Zethrid stretched, her back popping several times. “I’m gonna hit the training deck, get in a workout,” she announced.

“I’ll join you,” Keith said, rolling his neck and laying a hand on his sword. “Spar?” he offered.

“Please,” Zethrid said, nodding fervently.

Lotor chuckled. “I know this ruse is boring,” he said, straightening from where he’d been leaning against the wall of the pod. “We could all spar, or better yet, simulate a battle throughout the entire ship – in fairness of letting those of us with camouflage be able to display all talents,” he suggested, inclining his head towards Ezor. “Teams, or battle royale – make a game of it, such as it is.”

Keith straightened, interested. He’d sparred with both Lotor and the rest of the generals enough times to know that none of them could beat Lotor in one-on-one combat yet – not even Narti. In a battle royale situation, though, or when working as a team… “I’m in,” he said.

 “I vote teams,” Ezor announced, nodding her agreement. “Dibs on Narti,” she added. Narti, for her part, angled herself slightly towards Ezor and inclined her head in agreement.

“Teams of two or three?” Acxa asked.

“Let’s make things interesting,” Lotor said, grinning. “Three teams of two, shall we say? The last team with at least one viable fighter wins.”

“I’m good with that,” Zethrid said, nodding. “I want Keith on my team,” she added.

Keith eyed her. “You, Acxa, and Ezor are all just going to split up like that, then?” he asked, not quite trusting her intentions.

Zethrid nodded. “Whichever team wins, _one_ of us wins, that way,” she said cheerfully. “And it’s gonna be us today, right, Keith?”

Lotor shook his head and turned to Acxa. “Thank you, Ezor and Zethrid, for ensuring that my team has the best long-range sharpshooter,” he said, laughter coloring his voice. “Will you team with me, Acxa?” he asked brightly.

Acxa’s lips quirked up slightly. “It would be my honor,” she said, offering a salute. “No mercy, sir?”

Lotor grinned in response. “No mercy,” he agreed. “Shall we begin in, say, five doboshes?”

Keith opened his mouth to respond, and instead yelped with surprise as Zethrid seized his arm and took off towards the docking bay entrance. “We need to find somewhere to strategize,” she muttered.

“You _think?”_ Keith hissed. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he and Zethrid would be the strongest team. Both Ezor and Narti were accustomed to stealth to some degree, and could pose a powerful threat in terms of sneak attacks. And Lotor was right – Acxa was their best long-range sharpshooter. A swordsman and a brawler hardly made the most efficient combination.

Zethrid shook her head and dragged Keith into one of the cruiser’s many unused bedrooms. “Okay, so, here’s the thing,” she said, shutting the door behind them. “There’s no rule saying we _have_ to spar with our normal weapons,” she said, her dark eyes glinting as a positively savage smile crossed her face.

Keith opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. She had a point. “I’ve barely touched my blaster since becoming a general,” he said slowly. “It’s not a terrible idea, though.”

Zethrid rolled her eyes. “Of course you haven’t,” she muttered. “Not a problem. You know that I’ve kept up with my blaster training. I’ll take ranged combat.”

“Don’t you mostly do short ranged though?” Keith asked.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean my aim’s gone soft,” Zethrid said, shrugging. “I’m no Acxa, but I don’t have to be. The surprise should be enough to throw everyone off.”

She had a point, at least for the first encounter with each of the other teams. After that, though? Keith wasn’t so certain. “Okay,” he said finally, trying to not sound reluctant.

Zethrid shook her head. “We have _got_ to spar more often if you’re going to have so little trust in me,” she mock-complained. “I could wipe the floor with you, you know.”

Keith shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he said. “I know you’re good at what you do. Doesn’t mean I’m sure these teams are evenly weighted.”

“Well, then, root for the underdog,” Zethrid said with a grin. “At least Ezor thought to call Narti before Lotor could pick her.”

Lotor and Narti would have been a terrifying combination, Keith had to admit. “Okay, so, I’ll take close-range combat, you handle distance,” he said. He could counter Lotor and Narti well enough with his sword, at least as long as he had Zethrid covering him. “What’s the plan for Ezor?” he asked.

Zethrid hesitated. “We’ll figure that out when the time comes,” she said after a short pause. “You ready?” she asked.

Keith nodded. “Ready,” he agreed.

Zethrid clapped him on the back, then reached out to open the door. “Exit into the hall and head left in three, two, one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short and mostly filler. Why is this chapter short and mostly filler? Well, you see, I had another, more plotty chapter written... And I hated it. The tone was off, the mission didn't feel like it gelled with the Lotor's plan, and no matter how much editing I did, I couldn't find a tone I liked. So I scrapped it in favor of some Zethrid and Keith interactions. Next chapter we'll get back to the main plot, but in the mean time, have some character bonding, I guess.
> 
> (Someday my life will settle out enough that I can devote the time this story deserves to writing...)


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Planning a rebellion for the long-game is boring, until an unexpected piece of news shakes up Lotor's plans.

For the next several phoebs, little changed. They hit quintessence supply lines as regularly as they dared, and interspersed their personal missions with trips to rebelling, newly conquered, and dissatisfied systems within Lotor’s sectors. The change in routine ceased to be novel very shortly; for such an essential substance, security at the quintessence refinement bases tended to be unusually lax. Efficient rebellions, as it turned out, were actually fairly boring, full of logistical planning and attention to minutiae.

Keith knew that Lotor was wise to plan for the long-term, even if the slow progress was dull and hardly felt like progress at all. Even if they could start an active uprising, what then? Thousands of enslaved planets would need to learn to establish their own governments and stand on their own; thousands of allied worlds would need to learn to adjust to the new customs and policies Lotor would implement. From what Keith could tell, in many places the empire was so entrenched that its non-galran citizens would prefer to maintain their status without changes. Their rebellion needed contingencies for that.

So although it was claw-sharpeningly dull, Keith allowed himself to fall into some sort of basic schedule. He and Zethrid had taken to training together more often after being utterly trounced by Lotor in the first of their now-regular strategy games , and Acxa and Lotor could often be found on the training deck as well. Ezor and Narti were intermittent presences – although because there was nothing quite like being tackled by a cloaked Ezor mid-spar with someone else, it was never safe to assume that Ezor _wasn’t_ present.

Perhaps the most interesting – and unexpected – part of Keith’s routine came less than two phoebs into their fledgling rebellion. Hours after everyone else had left the briefing room, he remained behind, reading through the plan for their upcoming mission a third time, trying to force his brain to recognize and _understand_ everything in the file. He didn’t know _what_ it was about the galran written language that made it so difficult to read and impossible to retain, but he couldn’t let the difficulty get in his way. Their next upcoming mission was set to be a narrow path of diplomacy as they modified a four hundred deca-phoeb old treaty with an allied planet, to ensure that their allegiance was officially with Lotor rather than the Empire. Sure, Lotor would handle the brunt of the negotiations, but Keith didn’t dare risk being uninformed.

And then the door slid open, and he felt the brush of Narti’s mind against his own.

_You still struggle with the visual written system._ It wasn’t a question, and there was no aura of judgement to her thoughts, but Keith bristled anyways.

“It’s nothing like the writing I learned as a child,” he replied, unable to keep the bite entirely from his voice. “I didn’t even start learning this until I was twelve or thirteen deca-phoebs old.”

_I wasn’t insulting you._ Narti’s tail flicked idly from side to side, and she tilted her head slightly. _I used to be no faster or better with it than you, you know. Though I do blame Kova for that. He is distractible._ The creature on her shoulder rumbled lightly in response, apparently clued in on their conversation, to whatever degree he could understand it.

Keith grimaced. “I mean, at least you have a reason,” he said, putting down his pad with a sigh and rubbing his temples. “It’s not that big a deal.

_It’s something you find shameful._ Narti idly scratched behind Kova’s ear. _Would you like to practice with me sometimes? I also came to the written language late, and have taught myself strategies to compensate._

Keith blinked, his jaw falling slightly slack. The very thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “I – yeah, that would be good,” he said, struggling to find the words to express the slurry of emotions that tightened in his chest.

_It means you won’t be able to spend all day every day on the training deck._ Amusement colored Narti’s thoughts, and Keith had to laugh.

“I get my Ezor-mandated varga of recreation every day,” he protested jokingly.

_Oh, my mistake._ Narti inclined her head. _One varga, out of twenty. And how many do you spend training?_

Keith refused to dignify her with an answer. “So, reading practice,” he said pointedly. “When do we start?”

* * *

With the quintants and movements fading into each other with little variation, any tidbit of news or information was a welcome change.

The quintant started ordinary enough, and routine continued as it always did throughout the day. And then Lotor’s military communicator let out a shrill noise in the middle of sparring, louder and harsher than the tiny vibration that meant one of his ordinary generals was sending an update. Lotor froze, his eyes locking onto his data pad left safely in effects containment at the edge of the room, and Keith took the opportunity to sweep Lotor’s feet out from under him. Lotor landed on his back with a loud gasp and stared up at Keith, wild-eyed, his face drained of color.

He looked almost… afraid.

Keith drew back immediately and dropped his sword. “Lotor?” he asked.

Lotor shook his head and pushed to his feet. “Sorry – sorry. You have good – good timing, there, Keith. Nice takedown.” He shook his head. “I need to see what was sent to me.”

Keith frowned. “That’s what distracted you?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“That tone signifies communications from the main fleet,” Lotor said shortly, crossing the room too quickly. “As I’m sure you can imagine, they rarely contact me for anything good.”

Keith couldn’t quite suppress a shiver, his fur rising. He was vaguely aware that Acxa and Ezor had paused their match and were openly staring; Zethrid had frozen in the middle of stretching, holding herself awkwardly in the splits as she also stared.

Lotor’s face was tight as he seized his data pad. Keith forced himself to look away, taking a deep breath to calm his hammering heart. He ran a hand down his forearm, smoothing down his fur. He had never once known the main fleet to contact Lotor. While Lotor’s command and sectors were still technically under Zarkon, they were functionally two different fleets. Why contact them now?

Keith reminded himself that if anyone had learned of their plans to rebel, they wouldn’t make contact first – the empire would just destroy them without a word.

“Oh.” Keith looked up at Lotor’s soft declaration of surprise. “Oh – now _that_ is interesting,” he said, the strain leaving his face. When he looked up, it was to grin, and Keith relaxed.

“Sir?” Zethrid asked, clambering to her feet.

“I believe there has been a significant development that will affect my father’s time and attention in our favor,” Lotor said, pocketing the data pad. “Where is Narti? She’ll want to hear this too.”

As if on cue, the doors to the training deck swished open, and Narti darted inside, Kova trailing her heels. _I haven’t felt you so distressed in deca-phoebs. What happened?_ She skidded to a halt as Kova trained his eyes on Lotor’s face. _I assume it was a false alarm._

Lotor’s smile widened. “Yes. I received communication sent directly from my father himself, to be distributed to all officers in my fleet,” he said, sounding surprisingly cheerful.

“That sounds bad,” Ezor said, frowning.

“For once, I am pleased to hear from my father,” Lotor said, shaking his head slightly. “It seems that one of his champion gladiators has not only escaped the arena, but made it back to his home planet, where he somehow managed to abscond with the blue lion of Voltron.”

Keith froze, staring. The quiet in the room was almost loud in and of itself, and Keith took a moment to center himself. “Voltron’s real?” he asked.

“I thought it was stories,” Ezor added.

Acxa shook her head. “No, it’s real. My mother’s people have stories of it, though I guess they could have been myths.”

Lotor snorted inelegantly. “I forgot that none of you were around when Voltron was active. I was a child, but I at least remember it.”

Keith nodded slowly. “Okay, but aren’t there multiple lions? How is a prisoner stealing one of them, well, newsworthy?”

Lotor huffed a laugh. “From skimming the full debrief, the green and yellow lions were recently spotted as well. And…” He paused, grimacing. “My father’s witch apparently has sensed a recurrence of energy thought to be extinct since I was a child. It doesn’t matter. My father has always been obsessed with the idea of locating Voltron again and capturing all the lions. If they are out there and active, his attention will be quite occupied. We may be able to speed up our timetable.”

Keith perked up slightly at that, and he wasn’t the only one; Zethrid let out a full whoop, thrusting her fist in the air. “Finally!” she crowed.

“As ordered by my father, we must keep an open track for Voltron’s unique elemental signature at all times. That actually plays into a plan I never thought would leave the realm of theory,” Lotor said. He shook his head. “No matter. It will require further study. In any case, I need to rethink a few of our plans. There are many things we can do with the attention of my father so fully occupied. Perhaps even…” he trailed off.

Narti stepped forward and laid a hand on Lotor’s shoulder. Lotor glanced over at her and smiled. “Yes, I suppose I ought to rest and take some time to think before I make any sweeping changes. I’m sorry – I believe I’ll take my dinner in my quarters tonight, so I can have time to organize my thoughts.” Lotor clapped his fist to his chest in salute even as he spun abruptly, heading straight to the doors before any of them could even return the gesture.

Keith turned to face the others, all of whom shared similar expressions of bewilderment. “Have you ever seen him like this?” Ezor asked after a moment of awkward silence.

“No,” Acxa said, her forehead wrinkling as she frowned. “It seems like a good thing, though.”

_I don’t trust a communication from the main fleet._ Narti hesitated slightly, unusually tense. _But I do trust Lotor. Once he’s thought through the information objectively, he’ll make the right call._

“Yeah,” Ezor added, unusually pensive. “Yeah, you’re right. I might not know much about Voltron, but when have Lotor’s plans failed us yet?”

Keith nodded. “I probably know even less about Voltron than you do,” he added, “But it does sound like this could be a good thing.”

After all, with an enemy openly challenging him, Zarkon would surely be too busy to root around for rebellions brewing underground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell if this chapter is worse quality than the others, or if it just feels that way because the new job has dumped a crap-ton of editing on me and now I am super critical.
> 
> That Keith and Narti reading thing came out of nowhere? It wasn't planned, it just happened. Ah well, I haven't been paying enough attention to Narti recently. She's such an underrated character.
> 
> Voltron is on the scene! Or... Well, 3/5 of Voltron is on the scene. It might be that way for a while. In an alternate universe they might have had a red paladin, but he's a bit busy helping with Lotor's rebellion in this reality. Sorry, Team Voltron.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a successful diplomatic mission, Lotor's cruiser picks up an unexpected signal.

As Lotor has predicted, the emergence of three of the Voltron lions seemed to immediately seize Zarkon’s attention. The distinct sound of the main fleet’s transmission signal sounded from Lotor’s data pad nearly every quintant, providing daily updates on Voltron to disseminate to his officers. After the first four transmissions, the sound of communication from the main fleet stopped seizing Lotor’s attention, though Keith couldn’t help but notice that he always excused himself shortly after the notification to check the report.

And with Zarkon’s attention turned solidly towards Voltron, they could afford to be bolder in their plans than Keith would have thought possible, when they first began.

“That went well,” Ezor said, shaking her head to dispel the water droplets that had accumulated on her face and head-tail. The atmospheric conditions of planet Ré reminded Keith almost of Earth, although he had rarely experienced rain himself. The locals, three divergently evolved species that lived relatively harmoniously, were used to more rainy days than sunny ones, and had no problem holding negotiations in an open courtyard while water fell from the sky. The raindrops had managed to seep through the seams in Keith’s armor, soaking his flight suit, and he resisted the urge to join Ezor in shaking the droplets all over the interior of the ship.

Less-than-ideal weather conditions aside, Ezor was right – negotiations _had_ gone well. Representatives from each of Ré’s species had agreed to meet in secret with Lotor to revise the language of their treaty with the Empire. With the promise that all Galra interference with their politics would cease as soon as Lotor took the throne, the representatives had been more than happy to change the treaty to swear allegiance to Lotor, rather than the Empire itself.

A move so bold would have been too risky, before Zarkon was distracted, but Lotor seemed confident that the change would go unnoticed. He had to be, or they wouldn’t have taken this chance.

“What next?” Acxa asked as Keith took his seat in the pilot’s chair and began takeoff towards the cruiser.

“We ought to lie low for a movement or so,” Lotor said, lurching slightly as the transport ship took off. “Just to ensure that we don’t arouse any suspicions. General Xarthu requested reinforcements for a planet that is giving his people trouble.”

Keith spared a glance away from the viewscreen at that, frowning. “A new conquest, or a rebellion?” he asked.

Lotor snorted. “A new conquest, of a planet and people that are terribly useless to us. Of course, admitting that we don’t need to rule every planet would be a blow to my father’s pride, and I couldn’t find a reason to turn down the general’s request to take this planet.” Lotor shook his head, disdain etched in every feature of his face. “We’ll appraise the situation, and see if we can’t find a reason to pull our forces.”

Satisfied with the explanation, Keith turned his attention back to flying. “Docking in just under two doboshes,” Keith said, sending a signal to the ship to open the docking bay doors.

The doors opened to pulsing purple light, the flashing alarm that indicated that the ship had picked up a tracked signal. Keith went rigid, his hands tightening on the transport’s controls. “Lotor, what are we tracking?” he asked, his voice tight.

Lotor took a step forward, stopping directly behind Keith. “My father ordered all ships to scan their sectors for signs of the Voltron lions,” he said slowly, “but I can’t imagine the lions would have any reason to come to the outskirts of the empire.” He exhaled, and Keith heard him clicking two of his claws together, thinking. “No need to alert my father until we’ve gone to the originating coordinates personally, I suppose,” he said.

“Is that safe?” Acxa asked. “If the main fleet pulls our scans at any time, they’ll see that we may have had a lead on the lions, and didn’t report it.

Lotor shook his head. “They won’t pull our scans. I’ll scrub today’s alerts, regardless,” he said.

“That’ll work?” Zethrid asked.

“Well enough to fool the type of cronies my father employs, at least,” Lotor said dismissively. “They receive their positions through nepotism and battle prowess, not technical knowledge. Unless the witch herself examines our scans, there is little chance that this will be noticed.”

Keith docked the ship, then swiveled around in the chair and looked up at Lotor. “And what do we do if it is the lions?” he asked.

Lotor smiled. “I’m sure they’d be interested to know that the empire is tracking their elemental readings. We may as well give them a heads-up.”

Keith nodded and rose from his seat. “I guess we’d better figure out where those coordinates are coming from, then,” he said.

* * *

The cruiser slowed from full-speed into a seemingly-empty sector of space. The alarms were no longer blaring noise and light, now that Lotor had pulled the coordinates, but the bridge scanner indicated that the elemental readings of Voltron were present in this sector, in a range of less than a quarter of a parsec.

“It doesn’t look like there’s anyone here,” Ezor said, peering over Narti’s shoulder and nearly knocking into Kova. The creature threw her an indignant look before turning back to examine the readings for Narti. “Just the element itself.”

“They shouldn’t have cloaking,” Lotor mused. “The technology wasn’t that advanced back then.” He frowned, staring at the readings. “Keith, can you run the scan again? Now that we’re in the area, we may be able to get a more direct location.”

From his position on the bridge, Keith painstakingly tapped out the command to run the scan again. “It’s more localized now,” he said, frowning at the screen. “Head to the new coordinates?”

“Yes,” Lotor said, his face slipping into a serious expression. “Let’s see what we find.”

Keith nodded and set a course for the updated coordinates. The cruiser turned slightly, angling towards a seemingly empty section of space, then shot ahead.

The cruiser came to an automatic halt a safe distance from the source of the elemental frequency. Keith frowned, squinting slightly at the odd, glowing… Whatever it was. “That’s weird,” he muttered.

“It almost looks like a rip in space,” Ezor commented, peering over Keith’s shoulder.

Keith turned to Lotor and froze at the slack-jawed, awe-stricken expression on his face. The few times he’d seen Lotor rattled in the past didn’t compare. Lotor didn’t react when Keith rose, or when Acxa grabbed his shoulder, or even when Narti let loose a wave of concern.

Finally, Zethrid nudged Keith out of the way and positioned herself bodily between Lotor and the odd formation. “Sir!” she barked, clapping her hands together loudly.

Lotor jerked, awareness returning to his face. Keith let loose a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. “Sir, what’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing his thumb against his index finger to ground himself. Lotor hadn’t seemed afraid, just – shocked.

Lotor was almost never shocked.

Lotor turned to face Keith, his eyes wide. “Well – we didn’t track Voltron,” he said slowly. “But it seems we may have located more of its source material, through that rift.”

“Rift?” Acxa asked.

Lotor nodded, his expression settling into one of awe. “Yes,” he said, edging past Zethrid to stare at the off formation again. “If I’m correct, I believe we may have discovered a rift between worlds – one that could allow passage into another reality.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because how the heck did Lotor find the comet in the rift in the first place? I don't think the Empire has a database of "trans-reality comets stuck in rifts between reality" that he could have consulted. Scanning the edges of the empire for Voltron and getting the same elemental signature seems reasonable enough.
> 
> Also, space is huge and I call bullshit on everything that ever happens in sci-fi. How do they have instant communications between all quarters of the empire?! I went to check how big a parsec is and I'm just so angry. And light years? How do G-forces not kill literally everyone when they're going between planets that have got to be light-years apart in the span of days?!
> 
> (I majored in English, I don't deserve to be sitting here raging about physics while I write fan fiction for a cartoon. And yet, these are my choices.)
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is amiss with Lotor.

Finding the rift was one thing. Accessing the rift, Keith came to understand all too quickly, was an opponent of a different class altogether.

The moment the first fighter touched the rift, the craft exploded, shattering to pieces even as it was sucked through to the other side. Keith winced instinctually, glad that the craft had been piloted by a sentry rather than a flesh-and-blood pilot. “That’s not good,” he remarked.

“Looked cool, though,” Zethrid said, her grin widening. “We should send in another!”

Lotor frowned. “I don’t think these fighters have the structural integrity to survive passage through the rift,” he mused. He shook his head, his brow furrowing. “The race most experienced with rifts between realities is long extinct, but if I can get my hands on their research…” He trailed off, then shook his head again. “That’s unlikely to happen. We’ll simply have to locate materials with greater structural integrity and experiment until we find something that can withstand the rift.”

Ezor groaned and slumped forward dramatically, planting her hands on her hips. “That sounds _boring,”_ she complained. “Getting quintessence is bad enough – now we have to pay attention to _structural integrity?”_

Lotor shrugged. “It we can get access to that comet, or access to the inside of the rift itself, we might be able to challenge my father directly,” he said mildly. “Or at least, his main commanders – we could turn our focus to the territory held by the main fleet and start to do real damage to his rule.”

“I like the part about doing real damage,” Zethrid said cheerfully, clapping Ezor on the shoulder.

Ezor exhaled loudly. “I guess you have a point,” she grumbled.

“Cheer up, Ezor,” Acxa said, resting her hand on Ezor’s other shoulder.  “We’re progressing faster than we could have hoped.”

“And besides,” Zethrid said, nodding at the sparse remnants of the fighter by the rift, “looks like we’ll get to see some fireworks along the way.”

* * *

It took a few quintants for Keith to realize that Lotor had begun to withdraw.

It started with a missed breakfast the quintant after they discovered the comet. He’d been eating with the generals regularly enough that his absence, while not completely unprecedented, was unusual. Then the next quintant, training was cut short, and Lotor’s absence was once again glaringly obvious in the mess at dinner. The third quintant, Lotor didn’t emerge from his quarters even once.

“I just think that maybe something’s wrong,” Keith confided to Acxa during their post-sparring cooldown. He leaned forward, easily folding in half to wrap his hands around his feet until he felt the stretch in his hamstrings.

Acxa nodded, carefully going through a practiced routine of arm stretches. “He hasn’t even spoken to Narti,” she said, her brow furrowing slightly. “I know he has to adjust his plans to include entering the rift, but this is troubling.”

Keith nodded and shifted so he could stretch the muscles in his back. “If he doesn’t come to dinner tonight, I’m going to talk to him,” he said.

Acxa frowned but remained silent, abandoning her arm stretches and sliding down into the splits.

Dinner was a quiet affair, and even the typical complaints about galran food were unusually subdued. Lotor’s empty chair was an unavoidable sight, a reminder that something was off. In the excitement of finding the comet and sending the first fighter into the rift, Keith would never have thought that the quintants to follow would be so tense and unsettling.

After a few doboshes of eating in silence, Ezor rose and poured the remainder of her meal down her gullet. “I’m gonna hit the training deck,” she said, grimacing. “It’s too quiet in here.”

“I hear that,” Zethrid grumbled, shoving her plate away. “I’ll go with you. I’ve been wanting to spar with you while you’re camouflaged – are you on board?”

Keith shook his head as Ezor and Zethrid exited the mess, mapping out the guidelines for their sparring session. “Narti, Acxa said you haven’t heard from Lotor?” he asked.

Narti inclined her head. _His distress is not serious, but I believe he does not wish to inflict his melancholy on the rest of us. Not that his absence itself hasn’t affected us._ She gently ran her fingers down Kova’s spine.

Keith grimaced. “I’m going to check on him,” he declared, rising and stacking his plate with Zethrid’s and Ezor’s.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Acxa asked.

_Perhaps if someone other than me prods him, he’ll listen. He doesn’t take my concern seriously anymore._ Narti reached down to disengage her feeding tube, then stood. _I believe I will surprise Ezor and Zethrid on the training deck._

Acxa didn’t look convinced, and Keith offered her a mirthless smile. “You know the worst he’ll do is tell me to go away,” he said dryly.

Acxa exhaled, nodding. “I know,” she said. “I’ve just never seen him like this. It puts me on edge.”

Keith could understand that. “Well, that’s why I want to go talk to him,” he said. “I’ll see you at morning training.”

Acxa only inclined her head in response, and Keith turned, exiting the mess and making his way towards Lotor’s quarters.

He stopped before Lotor’s door and, without hesitation, reached out to rap loudly on the doorframe. “Lotor, it’s Keith,” he called.

There was silence for a moment, and then the door hissed open. Keith locked eyes on Lotor as he stepped over the threshold. “Are you all right, sir?” he asked cautiously, taking in the deep purple coloring beneath Lotor’s eyes and the way his entire body seemed to sag, even as he stood with his shoulders straight and his head held high.

“I’m perfectly fine, Keith,” Lotor said, a tight undercurrent of strain undercutting his voice. “I just need to devise a plan to successfully retrieve this comet.” He exhaled, and reached up absently to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “If I could just access my mother’s research…” he muttered absently.

“Your mother’s research?” Keith asked quietly.

Lotor froze, his hand still tangled in his hair, and locked eyes with Keith. “Yes,” he said finally, after a long pause. “My mother was in charge of research on the rift that appeared on the Galra homeworld. It’s how she and my father met.” Slowly, he lowered his hand. “I observed many of her experiments as a child, but without her notes, I’m not sure where to begin looking for a way to safely access the rift. It’s frustrating,” he admitted, pursing his lips.

Keith hesitated, not entirely sure he should ask his next question. “You said the race with the most rift experience was extinct,” he said finally, taking a small step forward.

Lotor’s expression twisted, and to Keith it was as though he had removed a mask, revealing grief and loss written plainly across his features. “The Alteans are as good as extinct,” he said finally. “As I’m sure you’re aware.”

Keith was aware – anyone raised in the Empire, even latecomers such as himself, knew the story of how the Altean king Alfor had destroyed the galran home planet Daibaazal, and how Zarkon had destroyed both Altea and the Alteans in response. It was, as his history teachers had taught him, the driving event that lead Zarkon to realize he must take control of the universe, so no other power-mad ruler could act as Alfor had ever again.

Privately, Keith had always suspected that wasn’t the whole story, and the grief on Lotor’s face seemed to confirm that. Keith took another cautious step forward and reached out tentatively to rest his hand on Lotor’s shoulder. When Lotor didn’t move to stop him, he spoke again. “So, your other species is Altean?” he asked.

Lotor huffed out a mirthless laugh. “Indeed. They were a great people, the Alteans. Scholars, alchemists, diplomats – they once passed through the universe as freely as the Galra do now, except that they moved to spread peace, rather than to conquer.” He sighed. “Of course, that peaceful idealism left them vulnerable when my father decided to destroy them. Peace and knowledge mean very little when your enemies are powerful enough to destroy you.”

Something in Keith’s chest ached, and he gently squeezed Lotor’s shoulder. “When we defeat your father, you’ll be in a position to make sure that never happens again,” he said quietly. “Are you sure there’s no way to access your mother’s research?”

Lotor’s lips twisted in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “My father’s witch controls all access to information regarding alternate realities,” he said bitterly. “She will never allow me access to my mother’s research, and even asking would bring down suspicion upon us.”

Well, it had been a thought. “I know you’ll figure something out,” Keith said, squeezing Lotor’s shoulder again once more before withdrawing his hand. “You always do. I – we – believe in you.”

Lotor’s smile softened into something more genuine. “Thank you, Keith,” he said quietly. “I’ll do all I can to not fail you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's pumped for season 5 next week?! I can't wait! I know how I want to end this fic and a few things that absolutely must happen, but I might include stuff from season 5 in here if it doesn't contradict my planned ending and plot points. So if Lotor dies in season 5 (we riot) I will straight-up ignore that, but if, say, Keith and Lotor decide to start shyly kissing each other (I wish) then that can be included. (I had someone ask me on tumblr if s5 would affect my plans for this fic, and the answer is basically a shrug. It depends on how the season goes.)
> 
> Keith, this is an inappropriate way to behave towards your CO. Next time skip the shoulder touches and go straight for a comforting kiss. (Hah, yeah, right - when will these two disasters do more than brief touches and longing from afar?)
> 
> You can't tell me that Lotor isn't proud of his Altean heritage and doesn't grieve the destruction of Altea. I will hold this belief until my dying day. Plus, you know, Lotor hasn't talked much about his tragic anime backstory, but he has one, and it's about time I start referencing it.
> 
> Also! [New art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12879189/chapters/29600949) courtesy of the amazing Wisttic/ChirpingFrog has been added to its appropriate chapter! It's of the airlock scene with Keith and Narti! Man, how things have changed since then...


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Ezor spar.

Keith shifted slightly where he stood on the training deck, his eyes tracking his surroundings for the slight blur that would indicate Ezor’s presence. This was his idea, he reminded himself. Lotor’s return to group meals and trainings had eased some of the tension, but residual discomfort lingered. A challenging sparring session was exactly what he needed to clear his head.

And Ezor was nothing but a challenging sparring partner.

_There._ Keith swung his sword and leapt aside as the air before him wavered. Ezor flickered into view as she connected with the training deck floor, letting out a loud exclamation as she hit. With nimble confidence, she was on her feet again in less than a tick, and Keith brought his dulled practice sword up to block her next lunge. “Are you even trying?” he called as he whirled, dancing away to be out of her arm’s reach.

“I haven’t even started getting started!” she fired back, flickering from view. Keith managed to track her movement for nearly an entire tick before losing her. He cursed under his breath, backing up and looking around cautiously, angling his sword to prevent Ezor from trying a direct frontal assault.

Without warning, a sudden something heavy dropped onto Keith’s back and shoulders. Keith barely had time to exclaim with surprise before Ezor’s legs were wrapped around his waist and her hands around his throat, squeezing. Keith choked and stumbled backwards, the sudden loss of air almost overtaking him with panic.

He could do this. She’d gotten him from behind – a smart move, maybe, but one that was easy enough to counter. Keith flung his sword away from himself and jumped, trying to angle his body so he would land flat on his back.

He half-succeeded. Ezor managed to twist enough to change his body angle, causing him to land on his side, but the move still had his desired effect; Ezor’s grip loosened upon impact, just enough for Keith to break her hold and scrabble free. He sprinted towards his sword, dropping to his knees and sliding to seize the hilt in passing when he was close enough. He was back on his feet in mere ticks and lunged as he spun, the dull point of his sword coming into contact hard with the flexible armor protecting Ezor’s stomach. Ezor’s eyes went wide, and she let out a hurt, breathless cry before dropping to the ground, clutching at her stomach and panting.

Keith took a few ticks to make sure it wasn’t a ruse on her part before dropping to his knees beside her. “You need the med-bay?” he asked, trying not to let concern creep into his voice – he hadn’t meant to actually hurt her.

“Probably… a good… idea,” Ezor said through gritted teeth, her brow furrowing. “That hit h – _hard._ Trying to give… me… internal blee…ding?”

Yeah, that wasn’t good. “Come on,” Keith said, slotting an arm around her shoulders and helping her to her feet. “Sorry – I didn’t actually mean to hurt you,” he said quietly as he helped her make her way to the door. On the sidelines of the room, both their data pads chirped in near-unison – Lotor calling an impromptu summons, no doubt. It would have to wait – Lotor would understand, surely.

He got Ezor situated at the med-bay before heading back to the training room to retrieve his data pad. Sure enough, the notification was from Lotor – a message, medium priority. That was good, at least – Lotor wouldn’t classify a message as medium priority if it required immediate response.

_Further information acquired re: General Xarthu’s pet planet project. Meet to discuss in officer’s lounge in one varga. Action is required._

Keith allowed himself a single, long groan. Pretending to still be active, loyal members of the empire was so _frustrating._ That time could be much better spent figuring out how to get the source material of Voltron, or massive amounts of quintessence, from beyond the rift!

But they had to perform normal, mundane missions from time to time to keep their cover. Keith understood it, even if he didn’t like it. He sighed, and bent to scoop up Ezor’s data pad as well. Might as well bring it, and the bad news, directly to her. If nothing else, she would probably up for commiserating about the delay to their progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for how short this chapter is. Pretty much everything that could go wrong for me at work this week did go wrong, so energy to write wasn't really available... At all. Then of course season 5 dropped on Friday, and I'm still processing it.
> 
> Speaking of, what a season, right?! I don't know about you guys, but I loved it. There's definitely some things we learned from the new season that I would like to include in this story... But not all of them. When I planned the ending for this, I wasn't prepared for, uh, that to happen. You know, that thing. I just did not see it coming. (Trying to keep this note spoiler free, in case any of you haven't seen it yet!) So, yeah, now I have to figure out what elements of season 5 to include and what to cut. (I mean, this fic is already a straight-up AU, but I AM trying to pseudo-follow actual canon, just.. you know... if Keith was with Lotor's squad and the paladins didn't have a Keith.)
> 
> Okay. I swear I'm going to try to get the plot back on track next week, I just didn't have the energy to do real writing this week, so, Keith and Ezor sparring/set-up for next chapter.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor and the generals leave to assist in conquering a planet containing a valuable resource, but run into some complications along the way.

One varga later saw Keith standing at ease beside Axca and Narti in the officer’s lounge. Zethrid and Ezor lounged on one of the benches towards the front of the lounge, wearing completely opposite respective expressions of excitement and boredom.

Before all of them stood Lotor, standing with his shoulders squared and his hands clasped loosely in front of him. “I have received additional information regarding General Xarthu’s pet project,” he said without preamble. “It pains me to admit this, but it seems we must put our plans on hold and assist him. There is indication that the planet he has failed to take has deposits of a valuable metal thought to be found only on a single, now-destroyed planet. To refuse this mission would draw suspicion down upon us,” he said, offering an apologetic shrug.

Keith exchanged glances with the other generals. Ezor offered a minute shrug and an exaggerated frown, while Zethrid and Acxa seemed completely nonplussed. Keith had the sense that Narti might know what Lotor was talking about, but if so, she wasn’t sharing it with the rest of them.

Finally, Acxa broke the silence. “What kind of metal is so important that the Empire would notice if we didn’t help secure the planet?” she asked, genuine curiosity coloring her voice. Keith had to admit that he was curious too. What sort of substance was so rare that it had only ever been found on one planet in the history of the empire?

“The metal is called luxite,” Lotor said. “Even before the destruction of the planet it was mined from, it was used sparingly. It is stronger than most metals, and when forged into a blade, the edge never dulls.” Lotor shook his head, a tiny smirk quirking his lips. “There are even rumors that it has some certain, shall we say, _mystical_ qualities.”

Keith couldn’t help but perk up at the concept of a blade that would never require sharpening. The idea of a metal with mystical qualities sounded ridiculous – but until recently, so had the concept of rifts between realities. “Sounds like something we could use,” he said thoughtfully.

Behind him, Zethrid snorted and half-rose from the bench to lightly punch his arm. “You just want a new fancy sword,” she teased.

Keith turned his head and met her gaze directly. “That’s not the only reason we should go there. It’s just the most important one.” He grinned, baring his fangs as Zethrid cackled at his response, then turned back to face Lotor, not bothering to clear the smile from his face.

Lotor, for his part, seemed equally amused, though he sobered quickly. “The main problem in taking this planet is that if we do, the luxite will no doubt be sent to bolster my father’s fleet. This cannot stand. The only way we can afford to bring this planet into the empire is if we, not General Xarthu, handle the acquisition so that we can ensure the negotiations with the inhabitants appear standard, but play out in our favor.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Ezor asked.

“We arrive, we allow the general to brief us on the situation, and then we firmly remove him from his leadership of the acquisition due to demonstrated incompetence,” Lotor said easily. “It’s a common enough practice that it shouldn’t raise any suspicion. We’ll allow him and his men to continue the fight to subdue the planet, but make it clear that all final decisions, and all negotiations, run through me.” He smiled. “If all goes according to plan, it should be a relatively simple mission.”

* * *

Barely a varga passed between Lotor leaving for General Xarthu’s ship to be briefed and his return to the cruiser. Keith stood with the other generals in the docking bay as the ship docked and Lotor exited, sharply pulling off his helmet and tucking it under his arm as he made his way down the ramp. From the look of almost helpless rage twisting Lotor’s face, Keith had to assume that already, things weren’t going according to the plan. “What’s wrong?” he asked, nearly in unison with Acxa.

“What’s wrong is that apparently my generals – not you five, the others – are _imbeciles_ who take on impossible tasks from the safety of their ships in orbit, sending in entire companies to die fighting a _futile_ war to ensure compliance from a _hive mind,”_ Lotor snapped, flexing his fingers restlessly, claws fully extended and ready to strike. “A _hive mind._ So long as their queen at the center is protected, they will never surrender! They don’t have the capacity to mourn the loss of an individual and take casualties into consideration! The only way to secure this planet is _genocide,_ and I –” Lotor broke off, staring wildly into space, his gaze distant. “I will never again allow that to happen under my rule.”

_Never again._ Keith’s stomach flipped uneasily at the implications. It wasn’t as if he was under the illusion that any of them were innocent in war – he had long stopped counting his kills, and was pretty sure only Zethrid continued to count hers as a point of pride. But the idea that an entire planet, an entire race, had been driven to extinction under Lotor’s rule?

It made the blood in his veins turn to ice.

Lotor slumped forward, allowing his hair to fall in graceful white sheets, obscuring his face. “I’ll need to come up with a new plan,” he said, sounding distant. “Something that lets us take this planet without destroying its people. If my father hears that I lost such a valuable planet because I refused to destroy its people…”

Something tightened in Keith’s chest. It was as though Lotor was curling in on himself, trying to make himself smaller, and the difference from Lotor’s usual charismatic presence was just about enough to break his heart. Almost without thinking, Keith stepped forward and laid a hand on Lotor’s arm. Lotor’s head shot up at the contact and he stared wildly at Keith for several ticks before relaxing.

“Lotor,” Keith said quietly. “We’ll help you find another way to take this planet.”

“Yeah!” Ezor chimed in, coming up next to Keith and offering Lotor a shaky smile. “You’ve got us to help you figure it out. Between all of us, we can think of _something.”_

Lotor didn’t smile, but his face relaxed slightly, the feral panic slowly draining from his eyes. “Of course,” he said, gently removing his arm from Keith’s grasp and straightening fully. “You’re right. But we need to come up with this new plan immediately, before suspicions have time to arise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. I've had this chapter planned for at least a month. I wasn't sure where exactly it was going to go in the story, but I had planned for them to have to try to conquer a hive mind, with Lotor openly expressing that he refuses to resort to genocide to do so. I've had this planned for ages.
> 
> Let me just say, Season 5 was VERY kind to me in terms of my Lotor motivation/morality analysis. So many of my headcanons and analyses confirmed. I still can't believe it wasn't a fever dream cooked up to cater to everything I ever wanted (well, except the lack of interactions between two certain someones, but what can you do).


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With only a hasty, thrown-together plan in place, Lotor and his generals begin their mission on a strange planet home only to a hive-minded species.

Of all the worlds Keith had seen in his time in the military, none were as undeniably _alien_ in feeling as the yet-unnamed planet O-4-U-b, host to possible deposits of luxite and home to the strangest creatures Keith had ever seen.

Strange, in that even as he landed the transport shuttle on the surface of the planet, on the outskirts of one of the large, sprawling settlements, not a single passerby so much as glanced at their ship. It was as if, to the local inhabitants, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

It made sense, in theory. From what information Lotor had provided regarding the native inhabitants, they reminded Keith of an advanced version of ants, their instincts keeping them rigidly within the jobs they were born to do, their focus entirely on the colony and the queen. As long as the ship remained outside the settlement, they wouldn’t even register to the natives’ senses.

Keith stabilized the ship and rose from his chair as General Xarthu’s personal shuttle settled to the ground near it, kicking up a whirl of dust and mossy plant debris. Keith schooled his expression and glanced at Lotor, who had made no such effort to conceal the disgust on his face.

Lotor met Keith’s eyes briefly before turning to face the generals as a whole. “Remember the plan,” he said, the disgust on his face softening slightly. “Keep casualties to a minimum. Be sure you keep eyes on Xarthu at all times. If he starts killing excessively, or manages to get too close to the center of the settlement, take him out without attracting attention from his men.”

Keith nodded, forcing his face to remain neutral. He didn’t like this plan – none of them liked this plan. Even Lotor was unhappy with the haphazard nature of the plan, but with such short notice and knowledge that the most obvious alternative was genocide, what choice did they have but to proceed?

Lotor had to get to the queen in the center, and hope that her brain was similar enough to theirs that they could apprise her of the situation and negotiate. There were no other options. Even if they could build their own settlements on the planet near the luxite deposits and coexist with the uncaring and unaware local species, declaring the planet “conquered” without actually subduing the local population would be too suspicious.

At times like this, Keith hated the empire even more than usual.

General Xarthu stood outside his transport shuttle, ready to greet them upon exit. Nearly twice Keith’s height and burly, with red-streaked skin and three bony head-crests that came nearly to a point between his eyes, he cut an imposing figure, an impression strengthened by the two columns of soldiers standing at attention behind him. “Prince Lotor,” Xarthu rumbled as they exited the ship, Zethrid and Narti flanking Lotor’s left, Acxa and Ezor flanking Lotor’s right.

For his part, Keith chose to hang back at the ship, observing. He wouldn’t be questioned for that – as the pilot, it made sense that he would choose to hang back with the ship.

“General Xarthu, how good of you to meet with us,” Lotor said, not bothering to mask the disdain dripping from every word. “I trust that you and your second in command received my orders for future planetside procedures?”

Xarthu inclined his head in agreement, but his eyes narrowed. “I do not see the purpose for this course of action, my prince,” he said bluntly, squaring his shoulders and staring down at Lotor. Keith bit back a growl at the blatant lack of respect. “We have no use for these people. It would be simpler to blast them to rubble and set up work camps when they have been destroyed. I have already secured permissions to transfer three thousand prisoners from the main fleet to staff the mines. Sparing these creatures will only cause a delay.”

Bile rose in Keith’s throat at the general’s words. From the way Acxa stiffened, and the sudden, dangerous looseness in Ezor’s limbs, he wasn’t the only one sickened by Xarthu’s rationale.

Lotor’s voice cut through Keith’s unease, chilling and precise. “You would take resources from my father’s fleet to staff your camps, rather than finding a solution that allows us to use local resources to mine the luxite? I think not,” he said icily. “I will not allow you to steal from my father simply for your convenience.”

Keith barely managed to hold back a snort of laughter. Zethrid was not so lucky, barely managing to hide her amusement behind a short coughing fit. Already, he could practically hear the jokes about filial loyalty that Zethrid and Ezor, at least, would poke Lotor with, once they were in private again. Verbal humor had never been Keith’s strong point, but those two would undoubtedly have something to say about that speech.

Before them, Xarthu stiffened. “It was not my intention to take resources from the empire proper,” he said flatly. “I secured permissions through Quartermaster Janka himself –”

“And _I_ am your commanding officer, not Quartermaster Janka,” Lotor said coldly. “We will take this planet as I see fit. Generals Narti and Ezor will accompany me to meet with this settlement’s queen and come to an understanding. You and your soldiers will accompany Generals Acxa, Keith, and Zethrid on patrol through the settlement. You will not engage unless one of the locals notices and engages with you. Considering they should instinctively ignore you, I expect that you will not have cause to harm any of our future workers.”

The expression on Xarthu’s face could fire its own blasters, Keith thought to himself. Behind the general, several of the soldiers shifted uneasily, fingers tightening on their weapons.

Not used to being explicitly told to avoid casualties, then. Then again, Keith knew all too well that those sorts of orders weren’t exactly standard.

“Understood,” Xarthu grumbled. He brought his arm up in half-hearted salute. “Vrepit sa.”

Lotor turned slightly. “Narti, Ezor, with me,” he said, waiting until they fell in step behind him before striding into the settlement, towards the center. None of the pale-skinned locals so much as looked up from their tasks, even to deviate their paths.

Axca cleared her throat. “General Xarthu, if you don’t mind, General Zethrid and I will require half of your men to begin patrolling the west side of the settlement. General Keith will accompany you and the rest of your men to patrol the east.”

If the look Xarthu had given Lotor could fire its own blasters, the glare he directed at Acxa was heated enough to melt through a ship. “You do not command me or my men, General Acxa,” he snarled, letting his lips curl back to reveal his fangs. The blood warmed in Keith’s veins, and he clenched his fists, digging unsheathed claws into his palms. Acxa could handle herself.

Before Acxa could respond, however, Zethrid crossed the space between them in a few powerful steps, planting her feet and folding her arms as she craned her neck to meet the enormous general’s eyes. “General Acxa is one of Prince Lotor’s personally trusted generals. I’d say she functionally outranks you here,” she snarled in return, returning Xarthu’s display of fangs by baring her own.

“Zethrid,” Keith groaned, trying to sound exasperated. He couldn’t – not really. Not while he himself itched to pummel this self-righteous son of a yult-herder into the ground.

Xarthu glowered, but jerked his head at the column of soldiers at his left. “You. Accompany these… Trusted generals,” he ordered, his voice shaking with fury.

Keith sighed and squared his shoulders as the column of soldiers marched away from their commanding officer to join Acxa and Zethrid. Patrolling with General Xarthu was going to be miserable – he could already tell. Acxa owed him for lumping Keith in with Xarthu’s group without even asking him, he thought darkly as he began to make his way to meet up with the general.

“Keith,” Acxa said quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Keith stilled, frowning as Acxa leaned towards him. “I have a bad feeling about this guy,” she murmured, too quiet for any of the others to hear. “Keep a hand on your sword, will you?”

Keith snorted and batted her hand away fondly. “He’s just another blustering juggernaut. He’s not going to do anything to me – he knows Lotor would kill him,” he replied, similarly hushed.

“I’m not worried about you specifically,” Acxa said. “This guy wants these people dead. He wants to be bloodthirsty here. Just… Keep an eye out.”

“This isn’t my first mission,” Keith reminded her, but he inclined his head in acknowledgement of her words nonetheless. “You have fun patrolling with Zethrid. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Acxa chuckled. “I’m pretty sure that’s why Lotor left me on patrols. He knows I’m the responsible one.”

Keith rolled his eyes again, then broke away and made his way towards General Xarthu’s group. “General,” he said, inclining his head with respect he certainly did not feel.

Xarthu looked down at him with undisguised disdain. “General,” he rumbled in response. “I suppose you intend to lead these worthless patrols?”

Keith stiffened and let his neutral mask fall. “I wouldn’t call our Prince’s orders worthless,” he said coolly. “But since you seem determined to salvage some thread of control over this project, I’ll let you lead the patrols,” he added, unable to resist throwing in the jibe at the general’s expense.

Besides, he realized as he fell in step just behind Xarthu, something told him he didn’t want to expose his back to this man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know when you really want to start on your next major plot point but it's just "not time" yet? Because that's where I am right now. Weird aliens with the sense-of-self of ants it is, then.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith runs into trouble on the surface of planet O-4-U-b.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers,
> 
> FYI, this chapter turned out to be a bit more gruesome than I originally intended. I don't think it's that bad, but I also have a pretty high level of tolerance for gruesomeness, so I'm putting content warnings for a few of the events in the notes at the end. Nothing too bad, but just a heads-up if you're squeamish.

In a sense, the lack of reaction from the locals to two squads of galra soldiers patrolling their settlement was unnerving. Even on peacefully allied planets, locals tended to shy away from soldiers, keeping their faces averted and their heads down. The first time one of the local aliens cut directly in front of Keith’s path as though he wasn’t there, it was all he could do to keep his surprise limited to a stutter in his gait and a burst of adrenaline that fled as soon as he realized that the alien was simply following her pre-prescribed path.

Xarthu, on the other hand, seemed disinclined to show patience and understanding, snarling every time his path was cut short, or a local pushed past him unthinkingly. “Useless vermin,” Xarthu snarled when one of the pale-skinned locals trod over his foot as she carried the carcass of some native animal towards what seemed to be some sort of hub. Keith glared at the general, resting his hand lightly on the hilt of his sword.

A varga into the patrol, Xarthu raised his hand to call a halt. Keith nearly ran into the general’s back as the larger man turned to face Keith, glaring down at him. “General Keith,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Keith met Xarthu’s eyes and returned his glare in force. “Is there a reason you stopped the patrol?” he asked curtly, folding his arms across his chest.

“Is there a reason we’re patrolling in the first place?” Xarthu countered, his eyes narrowing further. “It is clear that these feeble-minded creatures cannot be commanded. They are too simple to even recognize our presence! They will be worthless as slaves!”

Keith exhaled, determined not to let his tension show in his stance. “They won’t be slaves, General Xarthu,” he said coldly. “Prince Lotor’s sectors do not produce slaves. They will work for us on command of their queen, once she and our prince work out terms. They don’t need us to command them if their queen commands them on our behalf.”

Xarthu’s face twisted into something ugly. “Pretty words, from our prince’s mouth, aren’t they?” he snapped. “Do me the decency of speaking to me as an equal, _General._ This has nothing to do with efficiency or taking resources from the main fleet, and everything to do with _compassion_ , doesn’t it?”

Keith cursed internally, glad that his armor masked where his fur was rising. “Brute force isn’t always the most efficient method of conquest,” he replied, gritting his teeth.

Xarthu snorted. “It figures, that our prince’s “trusted generals” are more poets than fighters. Everyone knows you did not rise honorably through the ranks like the rest of us. Our prince clearly hasn’t recovered from the weakness that saw him exiled in the first place!”

Keith’s vision hazed over as the blood boiled in his veins. Snarling, Keith drew his sword and pointed it at the general, who made no move to retaliate in turn. “Don’t talk about him like that,” Keith hissed.

“It seems I’ve found a sore spot,” Xarthu said, baring his teeth. Lazily, he palmed his blaster. “I wonder what would happen if I make a report to the main fleet that our prince hasn’t learned his lesson about compassion? Between that, and the re-introduction of luxite as a resource for our empire, I think I have well overcome the shame that led me to be stationed under the exiled prince, rather than the Emperor himself. Perhaps I would be welcomed back into the empire proper.”

Behind them, Keith was only dimly aware that the enlisted soldiers were backing away, murmuring nervously. His vision narrowed in on the imposing figure before him. Xarthu’s words about compassion were definitely a threat – and one that Keith would have to ask Lotor about, later. “What do you want, General Xarthu?” he hissed.

Xarthu shrugged. “At the immediate moment? You, out of my way.” With one swift movement, the general drew his blaster and fired directly at Keith.

Keith barely managed to dodge the blast and get his sword up. “What are you _doing?”_ he shouted, leaping out of the way of another blast, nearly crashing into one of the unbothered locals as he dodged.

“If it just so happens that a “mistake” is made –” Xarthu grunted, firing again “– and the locals kill our prince’s pet general, well, he’ll _have_ to wipe them out in retaliation.” Keith practically threw himself to the ground as the general fired again, rolling and leaping to his feet just in time to deflect another blast with his sword. “If he refuses, I’ll know he hasn’t learned his lesson – something the main fleet will be very interested to hear!”

The man was _insane,_ Keith realized. His eyes darted to the enlisted soldiers as he dodged the next shot, desperately trying to get in close enough to engage Xarthu with his sword. None of the soldiers made a move to intervene – waiting, it seemed, to see who would win.

_Cowards._

Keith whirled around another blast, finally coming close enough to strike at his opponent with his sword. The blade caught in the thick, flexible armor that protected the general’s stomach; from Xarthu’s roar of pain, he had managed to cut through the reinforced fabric.

Keith didn’t have time to celebrate. Thick fingers closed over the back of his neck, and he found himself hurtling through the air. The breath was forced from his lungs as he hit the ground hard, pinning one of the locals beneath him where he fell. Keith staggered to his feet, panting for breath and staring wildly at Xarthu, who looked back with grim satisfaction, holstering his blaster.

It took Keith only a few ticks to figure out why.

Something light brushed against the back of Keith’s neck. He leapt around with a cry, only to find himself face-to-face with one of the local aliens. She regarded him curiously, the thin tendrils surrounding her face brushing against the exposed skin of his face and neck. Keith barely had a moment to remember that the tendrils were these aliens’ main sensory organs before she let loose a high, keening trill and threw her spindly body at him, knocking him off balance.

Keith staggered backwards, desperately trying to break her surprisingly strong grip as a few of the other locals dropped their tasks and converged on him. He cursed as his back hit another one, which also ran her sense organs across his exposed neck. They were trying to figure out if he was _food._ And to them, he probably was.

The alien at the front trilled again, taking two hands off his arms to steady his face and press her tendrils against his cheeks. Keith threw his head back and twisted, managing to knock over the alien at his back and wrench his arms free of the one at his front.

The sound of a blaster going off barely provided him any warning before pain burst through his side, radiating through his entire torso. Keith fell with a cry, turning his head to see one of Xarthu’s soldiers standing beside the general, blaster in hand. Before Keith could attempt to stand, both aliens were upon him, pinning him flat while their tendrils tasted his face and hair.

His wrist communicator chimed, a barely-noticeable noise as he thrashed beneath the two aliens. “Xarthu!” he shouted as a third joined the first two, this one larger and more sturdily built. His skin crawled where her tendrils joined the others, and he struggled to turn his face away, glaring hatefully at the general. “Lotor isn’t stupid! He’ll know you set this up!”

“My soldiers will back me,” Xarthu said, waving a single lazy hand. “You found my company unpleasant and, in your anger, foolishly split up from the rest of the group. I imagine you’ll be too busy being eaten to speak against me.”

Keith managed to drive a knee into some body part of one of the aliens. The alien keened again and knocked a limb hard against his head. Keith’s vision wavered, and he cursed again, thrashing desperately.

The third, largest alien drew back and spat, dislodging something sticky and wet from the thin, protruding orifice in the center of her face. Keith coughed and gagged as the liquid splashed across his nose, numbing his skin almost immediately. “No,” Keith muttered as his muscles began to fall slack against his will. Some sort of paralytic? They hadn’t been briefed on any sort of paralytic or otherwise-altering capabilities of these aliens!

Slowly, inexorably, his limbs fell slack. Keith struggled to breathe as the three aliens drew back, and the first one bent to gather him in her arms. No. _No!_ This couldn’t be happening!

Keith’s wrist-communicator chimed again, several times in rapid succession. Keith forced himself to breathe, struggling to move so much as a single limb. If he could just manage to reach the communicator and activate the response function, maybe he could alert whoever was contacting him to his situation.

_“KEITH!”_

Before he could even register his name, Keith fell to the ground as an unseen force knocked his captors scattering. Keith hit the ground hard, his vision going dark for a split-second as Ezor materialized seemingly out of nowhere, a furious whirlwind of limbs and blades until all three aliens lay in bloody ribbons on the ground around him.”

“General Xarthu.” If he’d had any control left over his body, Keith thought he could weep at the sound of Lotor’s voice. “What is the meaning of this treachery?”

“I – It’s not what it looks like!”

Keith couldn’t see the general, but he could hear the terror in his voice.

“I see. You and your men weren’t simply standing by and watching the locals try to eat one of my generals, then?” Footsteps sounded, and Lotor gracefully stepped over Keith’s body, elegant calves working in powerful strides as he made his way towards the general. “Why did you not intervene, then? Fear? Or apathy? Both are quite unbecoming of a general.”

“I –”

There was the sound of a sword unsheathing, a squelch, and a thud. Keith strained to move his eyes, to see anything.

_Keith._ Narti’s thoughts were warm and apologetic in his mind. _I’m going to take you over. Don’t be alarmed._ Narti’s hand rested against his shoulder, and Keith found his paralyzed body moving against his will, rising to his feet.

Standing, with Narti’s help, he could finally see the scene before him. Aside from the three dead aliens, the locals continued about their business, uncaring that the corpses of three of their own lay in the street. Xarthu’s body was sprawled on the ground, his severed head a sizeable distance away from the rest of his corpse, blood trailing between the two distinct sections of his body. Lotor stood, radiating fury, before the quaking soldiers remaining, his bloodstained sword still held in a loose grip.

“Never let it be said I am not merciful,” Lotor said coldly. “You stood by and watched as one of my generals, one of your _superiors,_ was nearly killed. Knowing the nature of the locals, I know it was instigated, and I know General Keith is too intelligent to instigate conflict with them without my order. You allowed General Xarthu to initiate this. I should have the lot of you executed.” Lotor paused, then sheathed his sword. “Instead, I will allow you each a choice between dishonorable discharge and exile, or dishonorable discharge and a decaphoeb’s sentence to the arena, after which you may have your citizenship reinstated – should you survive.”

_Come, Keith. You need the med-bay._ Keith’s limbs began to move of their own accord, and he allowed himself to relax back against Narti’s presence in his mind.

They ran into Narti and Zethrid as they neared the shuttle. “Narti?” Acxa asked, staring at them with wide eyes. _“Keith?”_

“The general incited the locals to attack him,” Narti said through Keith’s mouth.

Zethrid stared, agape, and Acxa stepped forward to smack Keith upside the head. “What did I tell you?” she demanded. “I told you to be careful!”

“I felt that too you know, Acxa,” Narti said with Keith’s voice. “We need to get him to the shuttle. I imagine Lotor will fly us back when he has finished restraining Xarthu’s surviving soldiers. We need to debrief as soon as he’s finished in the med-bay.”

Acxa looked shaken. Zethrid stepped forward, clearing her throat. “No issues on our end of the patrol,” she said. “We loaded the soldiers Xarthu sent with us onto the shuttle already. No incidents with the locals.”

Narti inclined her head, and Keith felt his head dip along with hers. They hung back, allowing Acxa and Zethrid to lead the way onto the shuttle, before following behind them and letting the door seal shut.

* * *

After three vargas in the med-bay while the paralytic agent wore off and the rest of his wounds were healed, Keith sat clustered around a table with Lotor and the other generals. Xarthu’s soldiers had been confined in the cruiser’s prison quarters, as Lotor insisted on holding the debrief before reassigning the ones who had accompanied Acxa and Zethrid, and sending the rest to whichever of the two fates they chose.

“Unsurprisingly, the queen’s form of intelligence was incompatible with ours, and we were not able to establish effective communications,” Lotor said without preamble. “However, with Xarthu dead, there is no reason we cannot establish our own luxite mining operations outside the local settlements, for our own purposes. No one is left to report to my father that this planet exists, much less that we failed to take it.”

Keith nodded solemnly along with the others, shuddering a bit. Intellectually, he knew that mining operations would be safe enough so long as they never interacted with the settlements, but all the same, he would be glad to stay away from Planet O-4-U-b for the rest of his life.

“Moreover,” Lotor said, pulling out his datapad and tapping a few buttons to activate the holographic display, “it seems our administrative territory has been expanded to include nominal oversight of some areas of the main fleet. Within the past movement, both the red lion and the black lion were spotted in action, and my father received intelligence that these new paladins have successfully formed Voltron. He no longer has time to oversee his entire territory.” Lotor offered a thin-lipped smile. “It’s a bladed blessing. If we make the right moves, we can create new alliances with some of my father’s planets without attracting attention – but operating closer to the center of the empire does make it more likely that we will attract notice.”

Acxa frowned. “Not that I’m complaining, but is it wise for Zarkon to turn so much of his attention to Voltron?”

Lotor snorted and shook his head derisively. “Hardly. If he wanted, he could simply retake each planet liberated by Voltron as soon as they left, rendering their efforts moot. But as it is, my father’s obsession with Voltron will only cause him to make poor tactical decisions, which we can use for our advantage.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Ezor asked.

“Tomorrow, I will deal with Xarthu’s soldiers. After that, I suppose we ought to familiarize ourselves with the systems newly under our control,” Lotor said, offering a wry smile. “Sadly, only a few of them are focused on quintessence gathering. Still, it will be good to see what new assets we have gained.”

The debrief eventually morphed into general discussion, and one-by-one the generals began to take their leave. Finally, Lotor rose. “Keith, I’d like a word, if you don’t mind,” he said.

Keith frowned, but rose to join him. “Sure, okay,” he said, following Lotor out into the hall.

They walked in silence for several long doboshes before Lotor finally spoke. “Are you all right?” he asked. “After today, that is. Did – did Xarthu say why he…” Lotor trailed off, staring stonily ahead, not looking at Keith.

“I’m fine,” Keith said, even though now that he thought of it, he could still feel the phantom sensation of tendrils caressing his face. He shuddered, his skin crawling. “He said it was something about you not learning your lesson with compassion, and if the locals killed me you’d either have to destroy them, or he’d have something to report to the main fleet.” Keith waited several ticks before speaking again. “What was he talking about?”

Lotor exhaled through his nose. “There were many reasons adding up to my exile,” he said finally. “My father finally decided he’d had enough when he learned I was working with the leadership of a planet, rather than subjugating them. He decided to teach me a lesson about the futility of compassion by ordering me to destroy them. When I refused, he finally went through with his previous threats to banish me to the corners of the empire, and destroyed the planet anyways.” Lotor shook his head.

Well, that answered the questions about genocide Keith had uncovered only a few days ago. “Well, there’s no one to report you for being too compassionate now,” he said quietly. “And I’m fine, _and_ you got rid of someone who was looking to betray you.”

Lotor made a noncommittal sound, but he finally slowed his pace and turned to look at Keith. “You know, I believe I told you to never make me fear for your life again,” he said, offering a wavering smile that didn’t meet his eyes.

Keith shrugged. “In all fairness, I really was trying my best to not die,” he said.

Lotor huffed and clapped Keith on the shoulder. “Good,” he said seriously. “I can’t think of many nightmares worse than one of you dying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Keith is nearly eaten by aliens, and there is a mild description of a decapitated body.
> 
> Keith. Lotor. You hopeless idiots. Please do more than just clap each other on the shoulder to show affection already. I beg of you. (I expect it will only be like another 20 chapters or something before these fools actually hold hands or something. I did warn for slow burn, at least?)
> 
> Lotor just... He loves his team so much. All of them are so important to him. :)


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With several systems formerly under Zarkon's control moved to Lotor's jurisdiction, Lotor and the generals have new planets to visit. Keith encounters someone unexpected.

The ship hummed beneath his feet, the whirring mechanics a familiar and soothing vibration as Keith guided the shuttle to the prison colony newly placed under Lotor’s command.

In the past few movements, Keith had come to accept that the planets assigned to them from the main fleet wouldn’t meet the standards of decency he was accustomed to from the planets Lotor had conquered. Even on worlds officially and nominally-willingly allied to the Empire, the inhabitants did not behave like secure and accustomed civilians. Instead, they tended to scurry by the generals, casting fearful glances at every galra in uniform – and they acted subdued even when they interacted freely with the civilian galra who lived among them. Conquered planets were even worse, the beaten-down inhabitants flinching from them and hiding their faces as they went about grueling, de-personalizing tasks. Keith’s insides clenched with the knowledge that they couldn’t officially improve conditions – not until they had enough power to challenge Zarkon directly.

He imagined that a prison colony like the one they were approaching – a slave camp, to shed the euphemisms – would be even worse.

The shuttle shuddered to the ground of the cold, rocky chunk of asteroid, an asset barely a blip on any star chart. Keith activated the mechanism to open the doors and followed Lotor and the rest of the generals out to the hard, unforgiving ground beneath them, icy rock beneath which was located the prison itself.

Lotor cleared his throat and turned to face the generals. “Please be extra cautious and polite with these people,” he reminded them. “We can’t do anything about their slave status yet, and I have no doubt they will fear us. As they are talented scientists, we cannot afford to forgo their expertise for our cause, but please refrain from intimidating them or ordering them around. We’re not here to make them miserable.”

Even Zethrid seemed serious when she nodded her agreement, flattening her ears against her head and tucking her fangs beneath her lips. Keith took a deep breath and schooled his face to look neutral, before following Lotor into the facility.

If not for the starved appearances of the workers within the facility, and the jumpsuits Keith had come to realize were standard for slaves, he would almost have thought this was an ordinary lab. Scientists passed notes and murmured amongst themselves, occasionally shoving each other and laughing when they passed communications.

And then one of the aliens looked up and froze, seeming to alert the others to jerk their attention to the upper balcony. “C-c-commander!” the first alien squeaked, cowering in on themself.

“Commander,” the others murmured, all shrinking in. One of the voices rang oddly in Keith’s ears, a translation, rather than someone speaking the galran word. He frowned, scanning the room until he found the culprit.

At the back corner stood a human, ducking his head with the rest, shrinking back in fear before the galra with the others. Keith stared, suddenly dizzy. He knew the galra had taken human slaves – he had seen the gladiator match – and yet somehow, he hadn’t expected to see another human if he just avoided the matches.

Lotor was saying something. Keith shook his head and pointed at the human. “You,” he said, fully aware that he was interrupting Lotor, but somehow unable to care. “Come up here. I want to talk with you.”

Lotor frowned, his eyes flicking over to Keith. “What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

Keith swallowed hard. “This alien is from my father’s species,” he said, equally quiet. “I want to talk to him. Sorry to interrupt, but I –”

“I understand,” Lotor said as the human shakily climbed the stairs to their access level, every limb trembling. “Go, talk with him. Assure him that he will not only not be punished, but will be rewarded for talking with you. I understand the desire to connect with a disavowed aspect of your heritage.”

Keith nodded and gestured for the human to follow him into the empty entrance walk. The doors hissed shut behind the prisoner, who winced at the sound, staring at the floor.

Keith swallowed hard, watching the human. “What is your name?” he asked finally.

The human took a deep breath. “Sam Holt, or Sam,” he said finally, staring at the floor.

Keith took a deep breath, then took a step forward, closer to the human than was technically proper. “I’m Keith,” he said, staring at the human, barely resisting the urge to reach out and touch him, just to be sure he was real.

Sam flinched, then slowly, cautiously, raised his head and met Keith’s gaze. “That’s not a very galra name,” he said after a few ticks, his voice wavering as he ducked his head again.

Keith inclined his head in acknowledgement. “My father was human, but when he died, the empire retrieved me. I was twelve,” he said. “Can you – can you tell me what happened, when the empire came for Earth?”

He expected to hear a horrific tale of conquest, but Sam shook his head. “Hopefully they left Earth alone,” he said seriously. “I was taken along with my son and our pilot as we explored the edge of the solar system. I – I haven’t seen any other humans since we were taken. I hope that Earth has been left alone.” The man peeked from under the fringes of his overgrown hair, and swallowed hard. “Uh, sir,” he added, before ducking his head again.

Something tightened in Keith’s chest. “I –” he began, swallowing hard as he stared at the human, the unexpected connection to his home planet, to his _father._ “I’m sorry to pull you out here so suddenly. But I never –”  Keith broke off and took a deep breath. “I never got to interact with other humans, looking the way I do. I just – you’re the first human I’ve met other than my father.”

Sam raised his head and regarded Keith curiously. “Why was that?” he asked.

He could do this. Keith took a deep breath, and then deliberately allowed himself to slip back into speaking English, translators be damned. “I don’t exactly look human. If I had been discovered, I’d probably have been taken in as a test subject. Dad kept me in isolation for my own safety.”

Sam’s eyes went wide as he spoke, doubtless some of the first words he’d heard in his own language that weren’t run through a translation program. “Fascinating,” he mused absently, before turning sharp eyes to meet Keith’s gaze. “It pains me to admit that your father wasn’t wrong. While we wouldn’t have claimed you as a subject, I did work with the Galaxy Garrison, which would have strongly tried to insist that you come in for regular testing. Hardly a dystopian horrorscape, but not pleasant for a child, either.”

Keith swallowed hard and ducked his head, a lump rising in his throat. “Maybe Dad should have sent me in for study,” he said quietly, his throat oddly thick as he spoke. “Maybe you’d have known about the galra, before they took your team. It’s –” Keith broke off, barely managing to remember that he couldn’t speak against the empire, not before a slave who would be forced to report any treachery should the base be reassigned to someone loyal.

Sam narrowed his eyes, regarding Keith curiously. “If I may be so bold,” he began cautiously, “I have to ask, why did the galra come to Earth, and not conquer us? If you were actually born there, that is. Forgive me, but it seems like an oversight.”

Keith shook his head. He shouldn’t tell a prisoner the truth about his traitor mother, no matter how he longed to connect with this man. “That’s not your concern,” he said. Sam flinched, and Keith clenched his teeth. “I - you're not in trouble for asking,” he added awkwardly.

Sam relaxed at his words. Keith took a measured breath before addressing the human again. “Was it one of your crew who ended up in the arena?” he asked carefully. “I – other than him, I haven’t seen other humans taken in the empire, and if you were taken from a different planet –”

“As far as I know, it was only the three of us,” Sam said, glancing warily at Keith even as he cut him off. When Keith didn’t retaliate, Sam relaxed a fraction. “My son Matt and I were sent to different camps. As far as I know, Shirogane was assigned to die in the arena.” He swallowed hard, his eyes watering slightly. Tears. Keith knew the function all too well.

“The human – Shirogane, I guess – survived his first fight,” Keith blurted out. “I mean, I don’t know if he’s still alive,” he added awkwardly.

Sam took a deep breath. “Well. That is encouraging, if nothing else,” he said.

Keith nodded. “I guess just –” He trailed off, his eyes blurring as he regarded the human. “Thank you for letting me know about Earth,” he said finally.

The doorways hissed open, and Lotor led the other generals out. Keith tore his gaze away from Sam, who had tensed at the noise, and directed his attention to Lotor and the others. From Lotor’s grin, things had gone well. “I’m guessing we can move forward,” Keith said dryly.

“Quite,” Lotor said cheerfully. “I think this team of scientists will be quite useful to our endeavors. I’m increasing both rations and leisure time for all inmates – to boost productivity, of course.”

Keith didn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes brightened at Lotor’s words, and cleared his throat. “Thank you for speaking with me, Sam,” he said to the prisoner. “You can join the rest of your team.” Team – as though Sam had chosen to work with these people.

The doors hissed shut and locked behind Sam as he edged around Ezor and slipped quietly into the prison lab. Keith stared after him for a long moment, then looked back at Lotor. “What did I miss?” he asked.

“Not much,” Zethrid butted in before Lotor could reply. “A bunch of technobabble about some gate on a destroyed rift.”

“The rift isn’t destroyed,” Lotor said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s inactive. There’s no reason to assume it can’t be reactivated. Lead engineer Ult’l’thi agrees with me, after looking at the preliminary data.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “Were you even in there long enough for this engineer to look over all your data?” he asked.

“The Lut’l people have photographic memories and an extra-ordinary ability to take in vast amounts of information at a single glance,” Lotor replied with a shrug. “I am confident in her abilities to design the gate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rock that confidence, Lotor.
> 
> Did I decide to insert this as a completely self-indulgent thing after season 5 aired? Yes. Yes, I did. Do you know how long I've wanted Keith to get to interact with a human?! It's been so long. And like... Maybe not the BEST circumstances for Keith to get to interact with a human, he definitely scared the pants off of Sam, but...


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A development in the battle between Zarkon and Voltron forces Lotor to escalate his plans.

And so, even with the addition of additional system’s to Lotor’s territory, time carried on, as did Lotor’s plans.

Pilfering away at the Empire’s stores of quintessence was even easier with direct access so some of the empire proper’s quintessence refineries, and even the planets slated for direct quintessence removal. Keith would be hard put to ignore the displeasure that creased Lotor’s face on the increasingly frequent occasions on which they visited those planets, but Lotor himself was the first to admit that they needed to grow their quintessence supplies. It was a temporary state of affairs, just until Lotor could challenge Zarkon directly.

At least once a movement or so, updates would come in regarding Voltron’s movements. The Galra Empire lost one of their Balmeras to the efforts of Voltron. A planet at the outskirts of Zarkon’s territory began a rebellion and, aided by Voltron, was extricated from Galra control. The lions were spotted scouting both in teams and individually throughout the empire, occasionally venturing out as far as Lotor’s territory itself.

(“I hardly care if they take it upon themselves to liberate the planets under my control,” Lotor had said when asked. “I have no doubt that those that feel true loyalty to me will align with me when the time comes. As for the others – what good does it to keep them bound to me unwillingly?” Keith had to admit that he had a point.)

Between political visits to allied planets, responding to calls to help put down rebellion, and working in personal missions to liberate quintessence from the empire proper for storage in strange locations Lotor seemed to have already mapped and determined, the days seemed to blur together. Busier than ever, Keith was lucky to manage two or three vargas on the training deck per quintant, usually joined by either Acxa or Lotor. He wasn’t exactly going to complain – from Lotor’s words of encouragement, they were managing to get ahead and perpetuate their cause much quicker than the prince had expected.

Time, inexorable as always, marched on. The calm, consistent routine continued.

* * *

Until the day routine was broken by an urgent summons to the ship’s conference room.

Keith nearly dropped his data pad as the screen flashed blue, Lotor’s preferred color for high-importance alerts. He set the data pad down on its shelf and forced himself not to rush as he donned his armor, making sure his chest-plate was secure and strapping gauntlets into place with practiced ease.

He made it to the conference room almost directly on Narti’s heels, with Acxa and Zethrid directly behind him. Ezor was the last in the room, entering practically at a run, her head-tail glistening with the remains of hastily-washed-off soap.

“I’m afraid there has been a development that may hinder our cause,” Lotor said as soon as the door shut, his voice clipped. “My father has sent word that Princess Allura, arguably the leader of Voltron alongside the black paladin, is in his custody. All fleets are to remain on standby to engage when Voltron inevitably attacks Central Command to retrieve her.”

Keith shifted uncomfortably, glancing nervously at the other generals.

“I’m guessing that includes us,” Ezor said after a long moment of tense silence.

“What do we do?” Acxa asked, her brow furrowing slightly. “We’ll have to engage if we want to maintain our cover, won’t we?”

Lotor sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead. Something in Keith’s chest clenched to see their leader so rattled. “There are no ideal options here,” he said finally. “It pains me to say it, but while Voltron’s methods have been a strategical nightmare, my father’s abysmal handling of the empire while chasing them has led to the sort of hope and rebellions that cause disorder under his rule. Losing Voltron to the empire means losing those rebellions, eliminating one of our unexpected tactical advantages. I’m not prepared to help facilitate that.” Lotor grimaced. “But we’re not prepared to outright rebel, yet. We cannot offer our help to Voltron – and frankly, as of now, it’s better that they do not know of our existence. I’d rather not be on their viewscreens before we’re in a position to move directly against my father.”

“But we’ll have to engage with them if we’re on standby, if they get close enough to our position,” Zethrid argued. “So, what, pretend to fight them, but let them win?” Her ears flattened at the mere suggestion of losing on purpose.

Lotor shook his head. “No,” he said. “Even that’s too risky. We can’t risk withdrawing in the middle of a fight without possibly drawing my father’s attention, and we can’t risk drawing Voltron’s attention by sending terms of surrender – my father’s commanders aren’t exactly known for giving up.” He sighed. “I’d wanted to wait until – well, let’s just say that there are a series of missions I had planned for us to undertake as a group. However, if we can reasonably claim that all of us were split up on solo missions, or in groups of two, and were not aboard the cruiser when the standby orders were sent out, we cannot be held accountable for being unavailable.”

Keith snorted. “Do you really think Zarkon would let something like “reason” or “logistics” stop him from retaliating against anyone who doesn’t follow his orders?” he asked.

“My father would have to pay enough personal attention to my actions and reports to notice first,” Lotor replied. He took a deep breath. “I won’t lie to you – some of these missions are dangerous. There is a reason I wished for us to undertake them as a group. Even if all goes well, we may be separated for movements, even phoebs. I’m asking you to trust me – I wouldn’t put any of us in this situation had recent events not forced my hand.”

“We understand,” Acxa said, lifting her chin.

“Dangerous mission? Sign me up!” Zethrid said with a grin.

Something in Keith’s chest had tightened at the thought of being separated from his team for movements on end – but he knew Lotor wouldn’t suggest splitting up unless he had a better plan to avoid complying with Zarkon’s order. “Guess we’d better get started,” he said.

* * *

Less than two vargas later, they had split into four groups. A small part of Keith was relieved to be in one of the partnered groups, even if he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be off on a series of missions to infiltrate and gather data from druid labs – though if he had to guess, he’d say Narti was even less pleased to go anywhere near the labs.

At least his mission made sense. Keith wasn’t entirely sure what the point of Acxa’s mission was – giant weblums he’d heard of, at least in passing, but what the ruggle was scaultrite? Whatever it was, Lotor was adamant that it was necessary for his long-term plans.

Ezor’s and Zethrid’s mission, Keith understood even less. The first stop – to retrieve crystals from a particular Balmera – at least made sense. That Lotor wanted them to stay and map the caves and tunnels of the Balmera, all without being discovered by the occupying galra forces, made less sense. Generally, maps of all Galra controlled systems were readily available – but Lotor was strangely determined that in the case of this Balmera, something was missing.

And Lotor – Lotor had been surprisingly evasive when speaking of his own mission, admitting only that he was following up on a thread of information he had discovered deca-phoebs ago. Keith resolved to ask Narti over the course of their flight to the first druid lab.

Keith ignored the strange, almost physical pains in his chest as he saluted Lotor and his fellow generals, before turning and making his way alongside Narti towards one of the few fighters actually designed for long-term travel and stealth. A few movements or phoebs was nothing in the long term, Keith reminded himself. He would see the rest of his team again soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter title: Operation tie-back to the actual show before I write 15 more political negotiations out of self-indulgence and completely drop the plot. (It's not a very pithy title.)
> 
> This is pretty much purely a transition chapter. While I love seasons 1 and 2, the fact that Lotor and the generals don't appear in them does mean that during that timeline I can assume the Lotor squad is off doing whatever I want to write... Which is countless battles and political negotiations and dealing with inter-empire intrigue. I'm pretty sure that at this point y'all are getting sick of that and just want Keith and Lotor to hold hands. Which they will do, eventually. Later down the line than anyone wants to happen, probably. Anyways, this chapter is my way of forcing myself to get back on track with the actual plot.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Narti run into trouble on their mission to collect data from various druid labs.

The ship hovered behind one of the moons of planet Guindal, out of range of Warlord Ranveig’s scanners – not unless he was specifically looking for intruders. Of the four druidic labs they’d infiltrated so far, this was the first not installed on a stationary base or a planet of some sort. According to the intelligence Lotor had provided, Ranveig merited druids due to his role in conquering entirely new, previously undiscovered worlds. Even the worlds Keith had helped to pacify, before Lotor had begun their rebellion, had at least been known by the galra.

Unknown species meant brand new test subjects for the druids. Keith narrowed his eyes and checked the ship’s scanners again to confirm that Ranveig’s fleet was in place above the planet. “Everything looks set,” he said, swiveling his chair around to face Narti. “I can get you closer, but you’re going to have to jet in. Think you can manage that?”

Narti folded her arms across her chest, somehow managing to project disdain from her blank face. “Yeah, okay, I know, you’ve been doing this longer than I’ve been alive,” Keith said, offering a small smile.

_I have. Perhaps not on this scale, but I am well versed in the art of not being caught._ Absently, Narti ran her hand along Kova’s back. Kova arched into the contact but did not break eye contact with the screen that contained the ship’s schematics. Idly, Keith wondered how much Kova understood of the visual information he fed to Narti.

_I have the route._ Narti withdrew her hand from Kova’s back. _Testing signaling system, once again._

The lighting in the cockpit flickered in color as Narti tapped the buttons on her wrist signaler – first purple to indicate an all clear, then red to indicate standard extraction procedures, yellow to request backup, and then deep blue to indicate that she was in need of immediate extraction. Keith didn’t love the lack of detail the system provided, but Narti’s telepathic range was far too limited to reach Keith in the ship.

“Signaling system is functional,” Keith confirmed. “Keep me in the loop. If I don’t get a signal for three vargas, I’ll commence emergency extraction protocols.”

_As always._ Narti clapped her fist to her chest in salute, which Keith returned. _Don’t let the fleet find the ship while I’m gone. I’d hate for something to happen to Kova._

Keith snorted and extended a hand towards the creature. Kova sniffed at his fingers, then rubbed his cheek against his palm. “Solid priorities,” Keith agreed. “Get the intel and get back safe.”

* * *

Not two vargas later, Keith’s insides knotted with dread as the lights in the cockpit flickered and changed, flashing a deep, ominous blue.

* * *

Keith did his best to blend in with the general atmospheric debris of the planet as he navigated from the safe position behind the moon closer to the fleet’s main cruiser. He managed to stall his ship as close as he dared to the cruiser and activated the rudimentary, emergency cloaking. It was nothing fancy – nothing that would even hide the ship from basic scans. But it would keep errant eyes on the bridge from noticing the ship, which was better than nothing.

Kova let out a questioning noise, almost a chirp, as Keith reached for his helmet. Keith hesitated, then reached out to scratch behind the animal’s ears. “I’ll bring her back safe,” he promised, his words too loud in the blue-lit cockpit. He swallowed hard, then folded his ears down so they would fit into his helmet and secured it in place. One quick trip to the airlock later, and he was floating in the void of space, his suit and helmet very thin protection from certain death.

He’d make due. Keith activated his own comm – Narti might not be able to speak back, but he could at least let her know he was coming. “Narti, it’s Keith,” he said. As if it would have been anyone else, he remembered belatedly – the others were far out of range for the individual communicators, at this point. “Can you activate your comm if you heard me?”

A tick of silence, and then the static of the comm crackled in his ears for a few ticks before turning off. Keith sighed with relief. “Okay. Um. I’m on my way. Can you activate comm again if you’ve been captured?”

Silence. Cool relief trickled down Keith’s spine, and he fired the jets at his calves, floating through space to the cruiser. Cargo bays were generally a safe bet for entry, according to Narti. “Are you in danger of being captured?”

Immediately, Narti’s comm crackled on again. Keith cursed. “Are you in the labs?”

After a few ticks of silence, Narti activated her comm again. That was probably a yes, or close to one, Keith determined. “Okay. I’ll get there and cause a distraction. You let me know when you’re out.”

Static burst briefly in his ears in affirmation, then silence fell.

Now he just needed to get inside and figure out a distraction that wouldn’t get him killed.

Sneaking in through a cargo bay staffed entirely by sentries was almost laughably easy. Stealth wasn’t Keith’s strong suit by far, but he knew enough about sentry programming to time his passage through the bay and into the main halls of the ship.

Only to almost immediately whirl back into the bay at the sight of motion and the glint of light reflecting off armor around the corner. Keith cursed internally, his eyes flicking about the large, painfully exposed space. _There,_ an exposed air vent. Crawling through the vents wasn’t ideal – it would be practically a suicide mission on Lotor’s ship – but Keith would just have to hope that a standard galra cruiser didn’t come equipped with choke points and booby traps.

No sooner had he climbed into the vent and replaced the casing than he heard footsteps – someone was entering the cargo bay. “I know you’re in here,” a woman’s voice called, hard as metal and brimming with authority. “Either show yourself, or face additional consequences when you’re caught.”

If he moved now, he risked being heard. Even as his heart hammered and blood pounded in his ears, Keith forced himself to breathe quietly, silent breaths through his mouth.

It seemed like an eternity before the footsteps started up again, this time leading out of the cargo bay. Keith sagged back and allowed himself a deep, shaky breath. That had been too close.

It was probably safer to stay in the vents.

The vents didn’t match the hallway schematics he’d studied, and it took nearly a varga of crawling in the dark before Keith finally, _finally_ managed to find what had to be the druids’ lab. Peering through the vents, Keith bit back a curse. Several medical galra occupied the space, one scrubbing what looked like blood off old tools, and another two standing by some poor alien strapped to a table, making notes as the creature writhed.

At least none of them were druids. Keith would happily go the rest of his life without ever encountering one of those in person.

Keith scanned the room again, this time searching directly for Narti. Keith was almost ready to assume he’d been mistaken about her location when he caught sight of her, pressed flat to the ceiling directly above the door, her fingers and toes trembling minutely with the effort of maintaining her grip for so long. If the med techs so much as looked up, or if even a single digit slipped…

Fortunately, all three of the med techs seemed completely absorbed in their work. Keith backed away from where he was in the vents and crawled along to approximately where he _thought_ the lab’s entrance was and activated his comm. “Narti,” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”

Static. “I’m going to make a lot of noise outside the lab,” he said. “While they’re distracted, get into the vents. Let me know when you’re in.”

Another burst of static. Keith nodded and took a deep breath, gearing himself up. He took a glance around his surroundings first to identify possible escape routes – extracting Narti wouldn’t save the mission if he was caught himself. One of the nearby vents angled downwards – a path to a different floor, hopefully. Keith raised his fist and smashed it down against the vent floor, producing a loud, shuddering _boom._

If he concentrated, he could just barely make out the muffled voices. _“What was that?”_

_“One of the crew dragging about, maybe?”_

_“I’ll go check it out.”_

Quickly, Keith backed towards the angled vent. Static burst in his ears, and he slid down a level before activating his comm again. “Are you in the vents?”

Static. “Meet me in the vent above the cargo bay. And send a signal if you run into trouble.”

* * *

Another three harried vargas passed before they were both safely free of Ranveig’s cruiser and back aboard their ship. Keith wasted no time in inputting automated coordinates to take them to the nearest empty sector of space, then turned to look at Narti. “What happened?” he asked.

Narti’s hands shook as she stroked Kova, who had curled around her shoulders and refused to budge the moment she’d entered the cockpit. _I was able to pull the data from the lab’s terminals, but the med techs came in with that prisoner before I could get out. It was a new species, being prepared for the druids’ examination. I’m lucky the prisoner was struggling enough to distract them while I hid._

Keith grimaced. That poor alien was doomed to a nasty fate. From the way Narti trembled, she was thinking the same thing.

It hit Keith suddenly, for the first time, that that had been _Narti’s_ life once. That for all that she was one of the fiercest and most formidable fighters he had ever met, for all the power that she held in Lotor’s sector of the empire, she had once been just like that alien – trapped by the empire and the druids and treated as a subject, not a person. “And you.. Are you all right?” Keith asked awkwardly, feeling stupid even as the words left his mouth. He wouldn’t blame her if she wasn’t.

_I will be fine._ Narti’s tail flicked from side to side, but Keith decided not to comment on her agitation. He’d be wound up if he’d been the one in her position. _I think, though, we may take a few quintants before infiltrating the next lab._

Keith nodded in agreement. “Good call,” he said. They’d come way too close to being caught today. They’d definitely earned some rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Narti a lot, and I show this by giving her a horrific backstory and alluding to it every so often.
> 
> Don't crawl around the vents on Lotor's ship. He's modified the heck out of them. Normal galra cruisers probably don't install traps in their vents so they can get into them for maintenance, or something. I don't know. Anyways. I considered actually writing out Keith's journey through the vents, but it would have been just so much "and then he made a wrong turn and it was very frustrating" so...
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezor and Zethrid, Keith and Narti, and Lotor return from their various missions. Tensions rise as the quintants pass with no communications from Acxa.

The residual tension that had taken up residence in Keith’s chest loosened as he guided the small ship that had been home base to himself and Narti for the past few movements into the docking bay of Lotor’s cruiser. Dozens of labs infiltrated, several drives worth of data acquired, and far too many close calls for comfort – their mission had been worth it. Still, he couldn’t deny the cool relief that flooded through him as the ship shuddered to a halt in its bay. Keith turned his head to grin at Narti, meeting Kova’s eyes. “And we’re home,” he said, pleased, powering down the ship and pressing the button to release the access hatch.

Narti inclined her head. _I don’t believe we’re the first ones back._

Sure enough, no sooner had Keith exited the ship than he found himself swept off his feet, his spine cracking in several places as Zethrid tightened her arms around him, shouting a greeting. “Zethrid – need to _breathe,”_ Keith panted, managing to wriggle an arm free and slapping her several times on the back.

_This is why I let you exit the ship first._ Narti sidestepped Zethrid as she dropped Keith unceremoniously to the ground and advanced, arms spread wide.

“No getting out of the welcome-back hug, Narti. Give in,” Zethrid teased, lunging forward. Narti pivoted out of the way and lashed out to smack Zethrid firmly with her tail.

Keith rolled his head on his shoulders and turned to face Ezor, who stood watching with a wicked grin on her face. “I’m guessing you guys missed us,” he said, his voice dry.

“Me, nah,” Ezor said, socking Keith lightly on the shoulder. “Didn’t miss a thing. Zethrid, though – spent most of our downtime sulking when we _could_ have been enjoying some alone-time.” The fondness in her gaze belied her words. “So this is four down, two to go,” she said cheerfully.

A loud thud, a yell of indignation, and Keith didn’t have to turn to look to know that Narti had managed to solidly knock Zethrid over, successfully evading a bone-cracking hug. “So, we’re still waiting on Acxa and Lotor?” he asked.

“Yep,” Ezor confirmed. “We got a transmission from Lotor just a few vargas ago – he’s not too far out. Shouldn’t take more than a few quintants before he’s back!”

“Still no word from Acxa?” Zethrid asked, dusting her hands on her armor as she walked into Keith’s view.

“Not yet,” Ezor said. “Not since she sent that transmission before going into the belly of the weblum.”

Keith frowned. “You got a transmission from Acxa?” he asked, curious. He and Narti hadn’t received communications from any of the others on their mission.

“Just a dumb personal message, not anything tactically important,” Ezor said.

“What are you talking about? It was _hilarious,”_ Zethrid said, snorting. “Turns out the training vid Lotor managed to dig up on harvesting scaultrite was _terrible,_ and I don’t just mean because it kept shorting out. The presenter was _awful.”_

“He wasn’t _that_ bad. He just looked ridiculous. It’s not his fault not everyone can pull off orange,” Ezor said, grinning.

Keith snorted. “We know not everyone can pull off orange,” he said, gesturing teasingly at her.

Ezor narrowed her eyes. “Watch yourself while you sleep, Keith,” she fired back.

Falling back into banter and bickering was so _easy,_ it was almost as if they hadn’t been apart for several movements. The easy banter and lighthearted bickering flowed effortlessly as they made their collective way from the docking bay to the rec room, navigating familiar halls with ease.

It was good to be home.

* * *

There was a saying on Earth, Keith knew, a cliché he only half remembered. Something about absence and fondness.

He could only assume that was the cause for the stuttering in his chest as the doors of Lotor’s shuttle hissed open, revealing their leader. Lotor stood in the shuttle’s entryway, his shoulders straight and his head held high, a genuine smile illuminating his face. Keith found himself unable to tear his gaze away as Lotor exited the shuttle and strode towards the group, his silver hair swishing behind him with each step, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

“Well. That was a successful mission on my end, and the order for all fleets to be on standby to engage Voltron has been relaxed,” Lotor said as he came to a halt before the generals. “I assume you all met similar successes?”

“Crystals obtained and the Balmera fully mapped, sir!” Zethrid replied, offering Lotor a matching grin.

_Keith and I were successfully able to collect data from all the labs you needed._ Narti inclined her head and brought her fist to her chest.

“Excellent,” Lotor said. “Acxa has not yet returned?”

“Not yet,” Ezor said, tilting her head. “Should we be worried?”

Lotor shook his head. “No, infiltrating a giant weblum is no simple task that requires a completely unique set of reconnaissance skills. Her orders were to take a few movements to train after locating the beast, before entering – I’m not surprised she hasn’t returned yet.”

Zethrid snorted. “Well, we know she watched that training vid, at least,” she said. Beside her, Ezor dissolved into giggles. “I say when she gets back we should all watch that mess, just for fun.”

“Mess?” Lotor asked, cocking his head.

Zethrid crossed her arms. “Sir, did you even watch the vid before you sent her off with it?”

Lotor shrugged. “Admittedly, no,” he said. “I found it deca-phoebs ago when I came across the opportunity to… liberate… a cache of ancient Altean artifacts from one of my father’s commanders. I assumed that considering Alteans powered parts of their ships with scaultrite, the training should be comprehensive and accurate.” He frowned, his brow furrowing slightly. “Perhaps I should have watched it before sending Acxa off, but we were in such a rush –”

“It’s fine, Lotor,” Ezor interrupted. “The instructor was just – how to put it – eccentric,” she said.

Lotor nodded, some of the nervousness leaving his face. “Well, then. Eccentricity is acceptable, so long as the instructor is competent,” he said. “I expect we’ll hear from Acxa soon.”

* * *

A few quintants passed, and then a few more, until finally an entire movement had passed since Lotor had returned to the ship, with no communication from Acxa. For all that Lotor had said not to expect her back right away, Keith couldn’t help but worry as the radio silence continued. He knew he wasn’t the only one worried; as the movement trickled on, he could find Ezor and Zethrid in the rec room less and less often, and more often on the training deck, uncharacteristically wordless as they sparred with each other.

Keith found that even when he joined them, they barely acknowledged him. Keith didn’t begrudge them their silence or lack of attention. He cared about Acxa as much as he had ever cared about anyone, but he knew that it was different for Ezor and Zethrid. He and Acxa didn’t have what Ezor and Zethrid had with her.

Tensions finally came to a head one breakfast nearly two movements after the rest of them had reunited aboard the ship. Ezor poured her breakfast down her gullet in one smooth motion, as always, but this time when she slammed her plate down on the table she stood immediately, glaring at Lotor. “We need to contact Acxa,” she said abruptly. “If she won’t contact us, then we need to check in with her. She might need an extraction! She might be –” Ezor broke off, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

Keith stared between Ezor and Lotor, suddenly too aware of his heartbeat, of his pulse in his throat. Beside him, Narti had gone still. Across the table, Zethrid looked like she was only a few ticks from doing – _something,_ though Keith wasn’t sure if she was ready to back Ezor up or drag her from the mess.

There was a long silence before Lotor replied. “We can’t,” he said finally. “I’m sorry, Ezor, but –”

“And what is _that_ supposed to mean?” Ezor cried out, slamming her hands on the table. “It’s been movements since we got back! She’s been out there for phoebs! Even if she took over a phoeb to train for this weblum, we should have heard –”

“Contacting her now could put her life in danger!” Lotor shouted, shooting to his feet, his fists clenched.

Keith stared, stunned. Never, not _once,_ had Lotor turned his temper on any of them. From the way Ezor’s eyes widened as she took a tiny step back, she hadn’t been expecting him to yell any more than Keith had.

Lotor took a deep breath, deliberately unclenching his hands. “My apologies,” he said after a long moment of tense quiet. “I should not have yelled. I – this is a stressful situation.”

“Yeah, you think?” Zethrid growled, rising from her seat and circling around the table to stand beside Ezor, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders.

“I –” Lotor hesitated, looking flustered. “Sending her in alone was dangerous, I’ll admit that, but _all_ our missions were dangerous. There was no reason to believe – I –” Lotor paused, and raised one hand as though to ask for time. “The weblum is alive and is a reactive creature,” he said finally. “If we contact her, we risk alerting it to her presence. Even if the conscious beast is not alerted, its internal systems may detect a threat. The weblum’s insides are well evolved to devour intruders.” He swallowed hard. “We will have to wait for her to contact us. I will not risk putting her life in danger for our peace of mind.”

Zethrid fixed Lotor with a hard look. “And what if this weblum detected her on its own?” she demanded.

Lotor inclined his head. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “At this point, we should assume something has gone wrong with the mission, and prepare an extraction. Meet me in the conference room in two vargas, and we’ll figure out a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to the person who sent me an ask on tumblr a while back regarding the fact that we'd never seen Lotor lose his temper at any of his generals, even though they sometimes do stupid things (thinking of a couple different instances here, KEITH). Here we see the kind of stress it takes to finally make him snap. I think getting yelled at when you're already stressed about a beloved teammate going radio silent on a deadly mission is probably sufficient to crack anyone's facade of stoic levelheadedness...
> 
> At least the rest of the gang's all back together and relatively unscathed!


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are high as Lotor and crew head off on their mission to rescue Acxa from the weblum. No sooner has the dust settled from the mission than Lotor receives a disturbing summons.

Following Acxa’s course and taking the cruiser to her last reported coordinates was simple enough. Truly, it was the time it took to traverse space that was the most frustrating aspect of the journey – quintants on end of wasted time. Keith took to holing up in his quarters after the first quintant – anything to escape Ezor’s nerves and Zethrid’s spurts of rage, to hide from Narti’s concern, to get away from Lotor’s intense focus on – whatever the information was that he had obtained on his mission.

Keith suspected that his absence was as irritating to the others as their frustration was to him. Well, that was their problem.

Finally, as the third quintant bled into the fourth, the ship reached Acxa’s last known coordinates, a desolate and empty field of ravaged planets. Having heeded the ship-wide summons, Keith stood pressed together with the other generals in front of the sensor input screen, watching for something – anything – that would indicate life in the sector.

Finally, an indication appeared on the screen, and Keith’s insides plummeted. Whatever that lifeform was – likely the weblum – it was far too large to be Acxa. The readings indicated that the lifeform, which spanned nearly the length of some of the smaller chunks of planets, was the only living thing within the scanner’s range other than Lotor and the generals. Keith clenched his fists forced himself to regulate his breathing, deliberately rubbing his thumb back and forth across his forefinger and breathing in time with the motions.

A thin, hurt noise escaped Ezor’s tightly pursed lips, and she reached out to grip Zethrid’s hand hard. “The sensors could be missing something, right?” she demanded, sounding lost. “We can recalibrate, we can – this doesn’t mean she’s dead. Does it?” she asked, staring at the screen.

“She’s too tough to die just like that,” Zethrid snarled, her voice cracking. “She didn’t die when that Mandhwaran guardsman ran her through three times, and no way would she let some _worm_ kill her!”

Lotor cleared his throat. Keith glanced at the prince, and his stomach dropped further as he took in Lotor’s grave expression. “This doesn’t necessarily confirm that we came here in vain,” he said, his grim tone belying his words. “It is possible that she remains inside the weblum, and that its skin is too thick for our scanners to detect her presence. If that’s the case, then we need to extract her, whether she has obtained the scaultrite or not. Keith, set a course for the weblum. Move with caution.”

Keith nodded and edged down the bridge to take the controls. The need to fly in fast, to destroy this weblum and pull Acxa – or, in the worst case, her remains – from the beast’s carcass welled beneath his skin, pounding in his veins. Keith grit his teeth, the cautious pace of the cruiser wearing on his every nerve as he ever-so-carefully edged around the remains of dead planets, halting only when the weblum itself finally came into view.

Keith hadn’t seen many creatures that he was certain could universally be considered ugly, but the weblum was probably a top contender for the ugliest thing he had ever seen. Bloated and swollen, even at a distance he could see the way the thing’s gills fluttered, absorbing who-knows-what from the vacuum of space. Acxa’s shuttle was nowhere in sight, and Keith bit back his disappointment. What had he expected – for Acxa to launch free of the beast as soon as the cruiser rounded the corner?

The weblum shifted, a lazy movement that sent the rocks and debris around it flying. From the new angle, Keith could see the glint of the things eyes, as well as the strange-looking craft perched behind the creature’s gills – not Acxa’s, he was disappointed to note. The craft was a smear of yellow against ugly greyish skin, likely easily missed if you weren’t staring with intense scrutiny.

Keith jumped, startled, as Lotor let out a loud gasp, easily crossing the space between the sensor screen and the viewscreen in only a few steps. “No – no, what are the _odds?”_ Lotor murmured, absently laying his hands over Keith’s and removing them from the controls. A rush of warmth shot from the backs of Keith’s hands all the way up his arms as Lotor laid grip to the controls, edging the ship closer. “Oh, this could either be very good or a terrible development,” Lotor muttered, almost to himself.

“Is it her?” Zethrid demanded, elbowing Keith to the side. Keith stumbled, and didn’t bother holding back a glare. He understood, she was desperate for news, but she didn’t have to _push_ him.

“I’m afraid not,” Lotor said, narrowing his eyes as he stared out the viewscreen. “It appears to be – no, it _is_ – the yellow lion of Voltron.”

_Voltron’s here?_ Narti’s thoughts were tinged with worry.

“One of the lions, at least,” Lotor said. “That could be why we haven’t heard from Acxa. I did express preference that Voltron not know of our existence at this point. She may be lying low.”

“Well, forget lying low now,” Ezor said firmly. “Who cares if Voltron knows we exist now? We’re going in and getting Acxa anyways!”

Lotor shook his head. “We can’t. It’s too risky.”

“What exactly is so risky about it?” Keith found himself demanding. “What’s the worst they could do to us if they did know we exist? We’re a lot closer to being on their side than Zarkon’s.”

Lotor hesitated. “It’s a gut feeling,” he said finally. “I just do not believe it wise to leave ourselves in a position where we may be forced to take a stand.”

_The alternative is leaving Acxa to fend for herself, and possibly die._ Narti crossed her arms, her tail held low and waving with agitation. _We can’t afford to risk that. We need to extract her immediately._

Lotor glanced at Narti, then at each other general in turn. When their eyes met, Keith made sure to level a look of flat disapproval at his commanding officer and mirrored Narti, folding his arms across his chest. He would gladly follow Lotor into the most dangerous of battles – if this time he had to drag Lotor after him into a dangerous confrontation, well, life was strange.

Lotor sighed. “I suppose I did promote all of you because I trust your competence,” he said. “Very well. I must insist that we watch the training vid for safety purposes before we –”

A sudden streak of motion shot across the viewscreen as the yellow lion lunged forward suddenly, leaving its safe hiding space to fly directly at the weblum’s face. Keith’s jaw dropped as the pilot, after what could only be less than a dobosh of trying to get the creature’s attention, began firing.

“Well,” Lotor said quietly as the weblum began to fire in return, forcing the pilot into a series of quick, if oddly clumsy, dodges and dives. “I suppose we could simply take advantage of the beast’s distraction to locate Acxa.”

“To the transport shuttle?” Zethrid suggested.

“To the transport shuttle,” Lotor agreed.

* * *

By the time they launched the shuttle, the yellow lion had ceased its attacks on the weblum. Scans indicated a single lifeform within the lion’s cockpit, and a second that emerged was swiftly scooped up in the lion’s mouth. Once they’d retrieved Acxa (and they _would_ retrieve her, she was alive, she had to be) Keith thought he might take some time to try to fully understand the display they’d witnessed. He had never seen _any_ ship fly like that, completely unhindered by its strange shape and lack of apparent engines.

He wondered what it would be like to fly a ship like that. Weird, probably.

The shuttle’s scanners beeped, and Keith glanced down, his heart leaping into his throat as a third lifeform appeared seemingly from within the weblum, moving in the opposite direction of the yellow lion.

“Is that –” Ezor asked, her voice wavering.

Rather than respond, Keith reached for his helmet and activated his comms. “Acxa?” he called tentatively.

_“Keith.”_ The voice that crackled in his ear was exhausted and wavering, but undeniably Acxa’s. _“I’d hoped you all would have ended up in this sector by now. I had to destroy my ship – not that it was going anywhere, in any case.”_

Relief bubbled in Keith’s chest, and he bent over, letting out a short bark of laughter. “We’re on our way to pick you up. Are you hurt?” he asked, reaching for the controls and adjusting the speed to send the shuttle shooting towards Acxa’s location.

_“I ran out of water and rations two quintants ago, and it’s possible I have a few electrical burns from when my ship sparked out,”_ Acxa said. That explained the exhaustion in her voice.

“Sounds like you’re going to need the medbay,” Keith said dryly.

_“I’m aware,”_ Acxa grumbled in response. From where he was, Keith could just about see her form, the jets on the legs of her armor signaling her presence almost as clearly as her signature on the shuttle’s scanners.

“You had us really worried for a while there, Acxa!” Zethrid said, activating her own comms. “I owe you about twenty ass-kickings for making us think you were dead!”

_“Oh, well, next time I’ll try not to get attacked by giant bacteria that launch my ship into a defense mechanism that literally bound my ship in place,”_ Acxa retorted. _“If anyone’s interested in the actual mission, I did manage to get the scaultrite.”_

Keith let the ship glide to a halt as Acxa came fully into view. “Pretty sure we were all too worried about if you were alive to think about the scaultrite,” he said.

“Happy as I am that the mission was a success, your safety was more of a concern than the mission,” Lotor added. “We could always have come back for more scaultrite as a group. There’s no replacing you – and Ezor and Zethrid would likely have staged a coup if we didn’t bring you back alive.”

“We would have,” Ezor agreed solemnly.

* * *

“You know, you’re too easy to find. You might want to work on that.”

Keith ran his sword through the last sentry on the training deck before turning to face Acxa, his eyebrows raised. “The cruiser isn’t that big. There’s only so many places I’d be,” he pointed out.

“Still,” Acxa said. She was quiet for a moment before continuing. “I spoke with Lotor after our official debrief, and he cleared me to share this with you.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. The debrief had been fairly thorough, even if he didn’t entirely understand what obtaining “all schematics and materials to build a teleduv” meant. Lotor had seemed to think that it would allow them to prevent another situation where a teammate was in peril, quintants away. “Whatever it is, why didn’t you bring it up during the debrief?” he asked, curious.

Acxa inclined her head. “It wasn’t relevant to any of our missions, and – well, Lotor is determined to remain unaligned with Voltron for the time being. I wasn’t sure how you’d react to this.” She shifted slightly, clasping her hands behind her back. “I had to interact with the paladins – one of them found me when I was trapped. He freed me, after a lot of screeching and back-and-forth with his teammate, and we fought our way out together.”

Keith frowned. “Okay,” he said slowly. “And you’re telling me this…”

Acxa met Keith’s eyes squarely. “Because they had extremely similar traits to the gladiator you said was from your father’s species,” she said evenly. “I think the paladins of Voltron are human.”

Keith stared at her as a strange sort of static filled his ears. The world around him seemed to sway, distant, unreal. “That’s not possible,” he said, his words distant in his own ears.

“It has to be possible, because it seems to be true,” Acxa said. Why did she sound so far away? “Even the language they were speaking – outside the translators, it sounded like the one you speak sometimes. Your father’s tongue.”

It wasn’t possible. It _wasn’t._ And yet…

What had Lotor said, when news of Voltron reached them? One of Zarkon’s prized gladiators had escaped and made off with one of the lions from his home planet. Maybe it was the human, Shirogane? Maybe he had brought other humans into space?

The world wavered, and Keith reached out to steady himself against a wall. “Figures,” he heard himself say.

“Keith?” Acxa said, her brow crinkling with worry. “Are you – that’s a terrible question, you’re not all right.”

Keith shook his head and pushed off the wall, forcing himself to stand even though his legs were shaking – his whole body was shaking. “Thanks for telling me,” he said quietly. “I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.” The world around him continued to shake unsteadily, but Keith forced himself to walk in what he hoped was a straight line. Once at his quarters, he made a direct line for his bed and collapsed, staring at the ceiling.

Damn ceiling didn’t give him any answers, either.

It just figured that he would have access to humanity that he’d never dreamed of at the tips of his fingers, only to have it inaccessible, unreachable. His short conversation with Sam had whetted a thirst for knowledge about his father’s culture, knowledge that didn’t just come from books and memories of his dad. He couldn’t dare single Sam out again – couldn’t be caught showing too much interest in a prisoner – but there were other humans in space, fighting Zarkon, close enough that he could physically feel his desire to find them, to form a connection.

But he couldn’t – not without compromising Lotor’s plans. It would have been one thing to reveal their small betrayal to Voltron to save Acxa’s life – it was something entirely different to do so to sate Keith’s curiousity.

Keith stared at the ceiling for a long time.

* * *

The unexpected summons came in the form of an actual hail to their viewscreen when they were all gathered together on the bridge reviewing Lotor’s plan to build a teleduv. Lotor frowned and swiped the file to a screen outside of the viewscreen’s range. “This can’t be good,” he muttered.

Keith exchanged glances with the other generals, before turning back to face the screen. “I guess you should probably answer the hail?” he suggested tentatively.

_I have a bad feeling about this._ Narti shifted minutely. _Do you have any generals on particularly dangerous missions?_

“If I do, I suppose I’m about to find out,” Lotor said, reaching for the screen and indicating acceptance of communications.

The creature that appeared on the screen certainly wasn’t a galra general. Keith frowned, staring at the tall, thin thing, swathed in robes with its face hidden behind a mask. He’d never seen anything like it, but something told him that whatever it was, it was dangerous.

It took Keith a few ticks to realize that both Lotor and Narti had gone deathly still, and a few ticks more for the pieces to fall into place.

The creature that had hailed them was a _druid._ Keith cursed internally, fighting the urge to take a protective step towards Narti.

Zethrid, it seemed, had no such qualms, stepping to the side to physically block Narti from the viewscreen.

_“Prince Lotor,”_ the druid intoned, its voice strangely smooth and sleek. Sleek, like a knife. _“By order of High Priestess Haggar, on behalf of Emperor Zarkon, you are to report immediately to central command.”_

Keith stared at Lotor, who swallowed hard, his eyes wide and blank. “Very well,” he said, his voice eerily flat. “When am I expected?”

_“As soon as possible.”_ All facial expression was hidden by the druid’s mask, but by its tone, Keith imagined that it was probably smiling smugly. _“From your current coordinates, it should take you only a movement or so to reach Central Command. I am sure the High Priestess will want to know what you are doing, so deep into the Emperor’s personal territory.”_ With that, the viewscreen went blank, leaving only the open view of space.

“Central command?” Acxa whispered.

“Do you think they found out about us?” Ezor asked, her voice oddly small.

“No,” Lotor said stiffly, his face still eerily blank. “No. The witch would not have instructed her cronies to intimidate me with knowledge of our whereabouts if she had anything more damning. Whatever I’m being summoned for, it has nothing to do with our… current activities.”

Still, Keith couldn’t help but think, whatever Lotor was being summoned for – it couldn’t possibly be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started planning this behemoth in October, before Season 4 dropped. Started writing it in November. Started posting in December. And JUST NOW do we really catch up with Lotor's first appearance in canon, because I love dying and being dead and worldbuilding.
> 
> I'm pretty sure that placing your hands on someone else's hands to remove them from the controls so you can take over is technically hand holding. I have fulfilled my end of the bargain for these two disasters to hold hands, that's how that works, right? (I know that's not how it works but let me get really technical about it.)
> 
> As a head's up: it is POSSIBLE that in the next few weeks/months, I might have to take a week off updating, or even a short hiatus. Hopefully it will happen, but if it does, I will let you know in advance.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Lotor is named Emperor Pro Tem, he and his generals have some work to do - namely, getting their bearings in Central Command.

Compared to Lotor’s cruiser and the bases in his territory, the air at central command was almost uncomfortably dry and warm.

It was the first thing Keith noticed upon descending down the ship’s exit ramp, his shoulders held stiff and rigid as he moved in formation with the other generals behind Lotor. His footsteps sounded loud in his ears, clanking against the grated metal flooring of the docking bay.

Keith couldn’t see Lotor’s face from his position behind the prince, but from Lotor’s stiff posture and carefully measured movements, Keith could guess that the prince wore the same, cultivated blank expression he’d practiced during the flight to Central Command – blank with flashes of calculated vulnerability. Privately, Keith wondered what good showing any vulnerability to the likes of Emperor Zarkon would do, but then again, Zarkon was Lotor’s father. Maybe, despite everything Lotor had said about his father, the emperor had a soft spot for his son after all.

In the entryway to the docking bay stood a hunched figure, smaller than any full grown galra Keith had ever met – himself included. Willowy and almost fragile in appearance, her draped robes did nothing to bolster her stature or suggest any sort of hidden strength. They didn’t need to; the closer they got to the woman, the further Keith’s fur raised. Something was deeply, disturbingly wrong with this woman. Despite her diminutive size, she held herself with assurance, practically radiating power.

Keith almost missed Lotor’s minute shudder as he came to a halt before her.

“Prince Lotor,” the woman said, her shrewd, husky voice loud in the otherwise silent hangar. “Come with me. We have much to discuss.”

“Alone, I presume,” Lotor said, his voice practically dripping with disdain. Keith drew back slightly, surprised. Did Lotor know this woman personally?

Thin lips twisted in a smile, and Keith caught a flash of what looked like bright red marks underneath glowing eyes before the woman inclined her head. “You may bring along your… companions… if you so desire,” she said, sounding vaguely amused. “I assume you will insist on keeping them – they may as well be present for the briefing.”

If anything, Lotor stiffened further. “What are you implying about my generals, _witch?”_ he spat.

_Witch._ Keith sucked in a deep breath. So this was Haggar, then.

“I see that your time in exile failed to cure your impudence,” Haggar replied flatly. “A pity – but no matter. I implied nothing that you did not read into my words.” She turned abruptly. “Come. There is much to discuss – but not here.”

Keith fell in step with the other generals and followed Haggar through the lengthy hallways of central command, making note of every corner they turned and every side passageway they followed. After so long on Lotor’s cruiser, accompanied only by his fellow generals and Lotor, it was strange to pass the occasional officer or group of enlisted soldiers. Heads turned as they passed, voices muttering too quietly for Keith to catch more than the occasional word.

After what felt like at least a varga, Haggar pressed her hand to the access pad of a door, which hissed open to reveal a dark, expansive room lined with row after row of shelves. Lotor drew back slightly, and the witch pursed her lips, waving a hand at the interior of the room. “In. I do not have time for your reluctance to enter my lab.”

It didn’t look like any of the druidic labs Keith and Narti had targeted. Keith spared a glance at Narti, relieved to note that while she stood as rigidly as the rest of them, the room itself didn’t seem to cause her additional distress.

He would still check in with her when he got the chance. Keith hadn’t forgotten how badly being caught in the lab had affected her.

They filed into the lab, and Haggar sealed the door shut behind her. “No one will disturb us here,” she said flatly, eyeing Lotor. “Your exile may not have cured your impudence, but I assume you have learned prudence in secrecy during your time away from us.”

Lotor folded his arms across his chest. “And I assume that whatever you say must not leave this lab. I cannot imagine my father would summon me lightly.”

Haggar inclined her head. “Lord Zarkon is unwell,” she said bluntly. “Our esteemed Emperor can perform feats beyond any other, but even he cannot effectively rule while confined to his bed. Your exile is temporarily revoked. You will take your place on the throne as Emperor Pro Tem, under Lord Zarkon’s guidance.”

Keith’s heart stuttered for a split second in his chest. That… sounded too good to be true.

It sounded horribly suspicious.

“I see,” Lotor said, his tone utterly neutral. “Tell me, witch – if my father is bedbound, how will he provide me with his guidance and direction? Somehow, I imagine I won’t be welcome at his bedside.”

Haggar bared her teeth in a facsimile of a grin. “I will provide you with whatever counsel you need,” she said. “I assure you, the Emperor will not hesitate to pass on a direct order should you begin to… waver, shall we say, from our Empire’s values and methods.”

Keith glanced at the other generals, most of whom shared an expression of apprehension. Keith could only assume he was making the same face. Keith didn’t believe for even a tick that the witch’s counsel would align with Lotor’s plans.

“Very well,” Lotor said. “Shall I assume quarters have been prepared for my generals and myself?”

Haggar raised her head, smiling unpleasantly. “Your childhood quarters and attached suite have been refreshed for your use. I assume they will suffice for your purposes.”

Lotor took a measured breath. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave,” he said.

“One last thing.” Haggar took a step forward, than another, until she was almost close enough to touch. Keith didn’t miss the way Lotor tensed, clenching his fists. “You may be acting as Emperor, but you are only an emissary for your father. The weakness you’ve exhibited in the past will not be tolerated. Do you understand?”

Lotor was silent for a long moment. “I learned my lesson long ago,” he said finally, venom dripping from every word.

“Good.” Haggar stepped back and activated the door panel. Lotor did not so much as spare her a glance before turning on his heel and stalking from the room. Keith scrambled to follow after him with the others, forced to take quicker steps than usual to keep up with Lotor’s long, angry strides.

“Lotor,” Ezor began, “what –”

“Not now,” Lotor said tersely. “We will speak once we reach my quarters.”

At least Lotor knew where he was going. Central command wasn’t laid out like Lotor’s cruiser. Keith reminded himself to pull the ship’s schematics and figure out his bearings.

No sooner had they reached Lotor’s quarters than Lotor made his way to an old, seemingly outdated computer terminal in the corner. “We need manual checks for listening devices and cameras,” he said abruptly. “Perform a full sweep while I determine what trackers the witch has installed on my computer.”

Keith exchanged glances with the other generals. “Does she have the authority to listen in on you?” Keith asked after a moment.

“It’s not about authority, it’s about ability,” Lotor said, his voice terse. “We will not discuss anything of import until I am certain that we are alone and unwatched.”

_There are three cameras and a listening device in this room alone._ Keith jerked with surprise and turned to face Narti, who shrugged. _I helped Lotor rid his cruiser of devices when he was first exiled. I know where the witch tends to hide them._

“And she may well have changed her methods to hide additional surveillance while luring me into complacency by installing obvious ones as well,” Lotor said, typing furiously. “Please humor me and run a more thorough check.”

Keith caught eyes with Zethrid, who shrugged. “Everyone take a room?” she suggested. “Assuming there are that many rooms?”

“My quarters consist of this entryway and meeting room, a kitchen unit, my room, a guest room, and a fresher,” Lotor said absently. “Five rooms exactly.”

“Got it,” Ezor said, scampering off to claim search of the guest room.

Keith tasked himself with searching the kitchen unit – a small room consisting of a table and four chairs, a disposal chute, and some sort of strange dispensary device that leaked purple goop when pressed. Climbing onto the table allowed him to locate and dismantle the camera installed directly above the wall lighting, and a preliminary check of the disposal chute revealed a listening device. A second and third sweep turned up nothing, and Keith left the room to assist Acxa in her scan of Lotor’s room.

A few vargas, a freshly wiped computer, and destruction of twenty-seven cameras and listening devices passed before Lotor finally declared his quarters secure and programmed each general’s DNA into the entry room’s access panel. “Our first prerogative, before we determine our path forward, must be intelligence gathering,” Lotor began. “I no longer know which commanders hold my father’s favor, nor do I know the state of internal politics at Central Command. Tomorrow, we need to familiarize ourselves with the officers stationed here, and then we must determine the political state of Central itself. With my father fallen, I imagine the ranks are in disarray.”

“Understandable,” Acxa said, inclining her head.

“Sounds like you could use some espionage!” Ezor said brightly, grinning.

“Indeed I can,” Lotor said, returning her smile. “In fact, Ezor, I would like you to determine the extent of my father’s condition. I do not believe for a tick that he is the one who summoned me – that was undoubtedly the witch’s doing.”

Ezor nodded. “So, what, sneak into his quarters and gather intel?”

“If possible,” Lotor said. “If not, just… see what you can find out from those close to him. Once Ezor has this information and we have familiarized ourselves with the officers here, I’d recommend you all infiltrate the officers’ box in the arena and gather intelligence from the private conversations held between officers.”

Keith grimaced, an expression mirrored by Acxa. Lotor raised an eyebrow in response. “I know the arena matches are crass, but officers tend to drop their guard when they imagine they are surrounded only by their own. It may be the best place to remain inconspicuous while hearing them speak with total honesty.”

“What are you going to do while we’re sneaking around?” Zethrid asked, her ears folded back slightly, her arms crossed over her chest. Keith snorted – of course Zethrid wouldn’t be happy about an espionage mission.

Lotor shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “Knowing the gossip circulating through the lowest of low is just as important as knowing the state of the upper ranks,” he said. “Therefore, I will infiltrate the gladiator matches as a participant to collect intelligence from the gladiators and slaves aboard the ship.”

Keith stared incredulously at Lotor. He wasn’t the only one; Ezor’s eyes went comically wide, Zethrid tilted her head quizzically at him.

“That seems like a very round-about way to collect information,” Acxa said.

“Perhaps,” Lotor agreed, “but I suspect that if I were to ask their concerns and perceptions directly, I would not receive an honest answer.”

Well, Keith didn’t exactly have an argument for that point.

“In any case,” Lotor said, “it’s growing late. I’d recommend we retire so we can be rested for the morning. We have much work to do.”

“Yeah, about that,” Zethrid said, “where’s everyone going to sleep? There’s only two bedrooms.”

Narti immediately dropped onto the bench in the entry room. _I’ll sleep here. I don’t need a bed._

“Acxa, Zethrid, and I can all share the guest room,” Ezor added. “It’s not like we don’t share a bed half the time anyways.”

Which left Keith with one of the chairs in the entryway, none of which looked large enough for Keith to lie flat on, even as small as he was. “I don’t guess you’ll want to spar for the bench?” Keith asked Narti, looking mournfully at the largest chair.

Lotor cleared his throat. “I know it’s been quite some time since I’ve used these quarters,” he said, sounding almost hesitant, “but if memory serves correctly, the bed in my room is sufficiently large to easily accommodate two sleepers.”

It took Keith a few ticks to fully process what Lotor had just offered. “What – share your bed?” he blurted out when his brain finally caught up with his ears. His heart pounded at the thought, and he could practically feel his cheeks heating.

Lotor averted his gaze, staring slightly to Keith’s left. “Only if you’re comfortable and don’t have another place where you’d prefer to sleep, that is,” he added. “You can still spar Narti for the bench.”

_Well, I’m not sharing a bed with you._ Narti folded her arms across her chest. _You kick when you sleep._

Keith shook his head. “I – I’m fine with that,” he said, firmly tamping down on the warmth that pooled within him at the thought of sleeping next to his prince. “As long as you really don’t mind, anyways.”

For some reason, Ezor and Zethrid exchanged a delighted look.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” Lotor said, offering a small smile.

Keith ducked his head. “Okay, then,” he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, sleeping in a chair probably would have been horrible for Keith's back, and Lotor needs his generals in top form. That's totally the only reason Lotor offered to share his bed. Totally. 100%. This is the fluffiest dang cliffhanger I've ever written in my life.
> 
> Here we also see me trying desperately to give Lotor a valid reason for his incredibly extra first appearance on the show. I love Lotor's first scene, but it's also the most needlessly dramatic thing I've ever seen in my life. Tone down the pizzazz, Lotor (please never tone down the pizzazz Lotor).
> 
> So far, I'm not tracking to have to put this on hiatus, happily. The possibility is still there, but I'll let you guys know.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lotor share a bed, and Keith grapples with his inappropriate feelings for Lotor.
> 
> Lotor and the generals determine one of the most prominent threats to Lotor's reign as Emperor Pro Tem.

From vague memories of childhood, Keith had some sense of what it should feel like to share a bed with someone. He remembered waking after the occasional nightmare, when he was very young, and waking his father to ask to sleep in his bed. He remembered feeling safer than ever those nights, letting his dad’s sleep rough voice sooth him to sleep while firm, work-roughened hands gently rubbed his back.

Sleeping in Lotor’s bed was an entirely different experience. Keith breathed shallowly on instinct, hyper-aware of the placement of his limbs, tucked tightly against his body to minimize space. Lotor radiated heat next to him, his similarly shallow breaths loud in Keith’s ears. Keith shifted minutely, rolling slightly onto his side. He stilled as he locked gaze with Lotor, whose eyes widened minutely in surprise.

“Are you all right, Keith?” Lotor asked, his voice hushed.

Keith shrugged. “I’m fine,” he breathed in response. “I’m not used to sharing a bed with anyone, that’s all.”

“Ah.” Lotor blinked lazily. “Just try to relax. It can’t be too different from sleeping in the barracks when you were an enlisted soldier.”

It was entirely different, not that Keith would say so. Even with the sounds of breathing and movement loud around him then, he’d always had his own bunk.

Still, Keith nodded and closed his eyes, willing himself to relax. Next to him, Lotor’s breath slowly deepened, finally falling into an easy, rhythmic pattern that Keith couldn’t help but imitate.

Matching breaths with Lotor was strangely relaxing. Keith allowed his eyes to slit open, taking in the prince’s relaxed, sleeping face.

It was strange, to see him so completely vulnerable, no mask in sight. Something about Lotor’s face when relaxed and slack jawed brought home just how _young_ he was. Keith swallowed hard, his fingers twitching with the sudden, inappropriate desire to reach out and touch, to caress Lotor’s face with his palm, to stroke fingers through his long, shimmering hair.

_No._ Keith tore his gaze away and rolled to face the wall, clasping his hands together tightly to his chest. It was completely inappropriate for him to think that way. Even if Lotor wasn’t his commanding officer, he was Keith’s _friend._ It was so, so _wrong_ to look at him and feel desire.

_But it’s fine when Zethrid, Acxa, and Ezor look at each other that way_ some rebellious part of him thought. Keith cursed his own mind at that and squeezed his eyes shut with firm determination. Comparing his feelings for Lotor with the feelings those three held for each other was a dangerous path to take. Lotor was his commanding officer. Someday, Lotor would be his emperor in more than just some temporary status. Lotor was destined for greatness, and Keith was determined to support him through everything.

He couldn’t afford to be distracted by his feelings. Keith squeezed his arms against his chest and forced himself to regulate his breathing. In and out, in and out.

Gradually, awareness faded, replaced by the gentle quiet of sleep.

* * *

Keith woke to warmth, all-encompassing and soothing, the type of warmth that meant safety and care and protection. More than half asleep, he wriggled towards the source of that warmth, tightening his arms to pull it closer. The source of the warmth made some sort of amused noise in response, and Keith frowned, his sleepy mind searching for the source of the sound. Keith blinked sleepily, slowly beginning to sort his bearings as he woke. He wasn’t in his room…

Because they were at Central Command, and Lotor had offered to let Keith share his bed. The source of the warmth was Lotor himself, trapped in place with both Keith’s arms and legs wrapped around him.

Keith’s eyes flew open as he flailed backward, staring with horror at a very awake, very amused looking Lotor. “Well, it’s about time you woke,” Lotor said, raising an eyebrow and smiling at Keith. “I tried to leave my bed three times already – all in vain, thanks to your remarkably innovative four-limb grip technique. Very effective at subduing its target.”

Heat bloomed in Keith’s face, and he ducked his head and – _come on –_ was horrified to note the very prominent, unmistakable bulge distorting the front of his sleep pants. “I – I’m so sorry!” he blurted out, burying his face in both hands and leaning over in a desperate attempt to hide his erection. Hopefully Lotor hadn’t seen it.

Hopefully Lotor hadn’t _felt_ it. Keith couldn’t hold back a groan.

Next to him, Lotor was laughing, surprisingly lighthearted. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Keith,” he said mildly. “I should have taken into account the possibility. Accidental embraces are common when two or more share a bed.”

_“You’re not helping,”_ Keith groaned, dragging his hands down his face.

“In truth, I was relieved when I woke to find myself restrained that it was simply you, and not an attempted abduction,” Lotor continued, his smile widening.

“Are you trying to kill me with embarrassment?” Keith demanded, squinting furiously at Lotor.

Lotor shook his head. “All right, I suppose I’ve teased you enough,” he said, his smile softening to something fond. “And I believe we’ve slept enough. We ought to wake the others and begin familiarizing ourselves with the officers stationed here.”

Keith latched desperately onto the change of subject. “Understood,” he said, scrambling over the edge of the bed.

* * *

It was with an air of solemnity that the generals – with the exception of Ezor – had donned their cloaks and filed off towards the arena. They had taken two quintants to familiarize themselves with the officers stationed at Central Command, during which time Ezor had managed to figure out that a certain Commander Throk was eyeing the throne and had too much support from the other officers for comfort. Then, three quintants ago, Lotor had infiltrated the gladiator ranks under the guise of a career gladiator. They hadn’t heard from him since, which was to be expected – career gladiators brushed shoulders with slaves too regularly to be allowed to keep communicators on their persons while in the arena. Keith wasn’t sure how Lotor had managed to smuggle his communications-capable helmet in with him, and hoped that he hadn’t been caught with it. Transmitting the chatter of the officers to Lotor was a vital part of the plan.

The arena attendant narrowed her eyes as the five of them approached the entrance to the officers’ seats, no doubt unused to allowing entrance to half-galra. Keith smirked as the attendant confirmed that they were registered in the system as Lotor’s generals, taking petty amusement in the attendant’s scowl. One-by-one they filed into the officer’s box, and Keith’s gaze narrowed in on a tall, gangly galra with shoulders that seemed too broad for his otherwise whip-thin body. Commander Throk. Keith glanced at the others just in time to see Ezor fizzle out of view, and exchanged nods. Moving softly to keep from attracting attention, Keith settled in a seat within easy earshot of Throk and his companion.

Several doboshes passed before the Arena Master rose, standing in the Emperor’s personal box himself, and gestured for the fight to begin. Keith’s stomach swooped as the arena doors on one end slid open, revealing a brutishly huge alien, at least several times Lotor’s bulk. He clenched his fists, watching the gladiator intently as he stormed out into the arena, bellowing something incomprehensible.

And then the doors directly across the arena slid open. Even with his armor adding to his bulk, Lotor appeared small in comparison to his opponent, but he entered the arena with confidence, sword held easily in his hand. Even with his helmet masking his face, Keith could nearly picture Lotor’s calculated smirk as he sized up his opponent. Keith relaxed slightly, turning his attention to Commander Throk. As much as he would love to watch Lotor fight, that wasn’t the point of this mission, and Lotor excelled against this type of opponent.

Keith turned on his small, easily concealed recording device and aimed it at Throk, transmitting the commander’s words directly to Lotor’s helmet. Recording device in place, Keith turned his attention to the other officers around him, just in case. With one eye, he watched Lotor use his opponent’s bulk to his advantage, dancing and whirling around his opponent, dodging slow and heavy strikes and repaying them with fast, if shallow, blows.

The officers nearest to Keith didn’t seem to have much in the way of conversation, so he turned his attention back to Throk, who seemed to be intent on disparaging Lotor to his companion. Keith smirked. Lotor was probably amused by Throk’s qualms with him, considering how true they were.

“Who’s this little fellow?” Keith just managed to overhear Throk’s companion inquire.

Throk sounded bored in his response. “I don’t know – I’ve never seen him before.”

Keith snorted. Oh, if only Throk knew.

Lotor lunged forward with a brutal strike, sending his opponent’s own heavier blade spinning across the arena. Lotor’s sword sliced cleanly through his opponent’s belly, not deep enough to spill organs but deep enough to cause pain. Keith winced in sympathy as the gladiator fell over backwards, lying defeated on the arena ground. He was pretty sure only career gladiators were allowed that level of armored protection, so at least the gladiator would be okay… Probably.

The crowd around them roared, some with anger and some with delight. Keith narrowed his eyes as Lotor reached for his helmet, tugging it free and allowing silver hair to cascade down his back. This was it. Lotor cast his helmet aside turned, his eyes searching through the officer’s box and landing on Throk. Even from the distance, Keith could see Lotor’s lips turn up in a smirk.

_“Lotor,”_ Throk breathed, and Keith had to bite back a laugh at the note of panic in his voice.

“Throk!” Lotor called, his voice echoing even over the noise of the rest of the arena. He raised his sword, pointing it directly at the commander in question. “You wish to challenge me? Then come down and claim your crown!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point I need to write the part where Keith actually STARTS cuddling Lotor from Lotor's POV, because it's hilarious. It's written in my head, but getting it out of my head and onto my computer? That's the tricky part.
> 
> Anyways, have a dash of unintentional cuddles and subsequent awkwardness to tide you over in this slowest of burns. And have Lotor turning the drama dial up to 11 because I love that boy but that arena scene was so over-dramatic and unnecessary (and I adore it).


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor and the generals can no longer afford to ignore Voltron.

“That was over too quickly,” Zethrid grumbled as the generals gathered in the gladiator-access entryway to the arena. “That Throk guy’s a _commander?_ I could wipe him out with my bare hands while sleeping!”

Keith snorted. “Yeah, he wasn’t exactly impressive,” he agreed. He couldn’t help but echo Lotor’s biting comment that Throk’s tactics were stale and predictable – it was like the guy had learned a few standard sword forms and never bothered to branch out and test himself against more innovative opponents.

Honestly, that was probably exactly what Throk had done.

Footsteps sounded just outside the entryway, and Keith and the others turned to face Lotor, Kova crawling up Narti’s arm and settling on her shoulder. Keith raised his fist in salute, grinning as Lotor exited the arena, victorious.

“That went well,” Ezor commented.

It really had gone better than Keith had expected. Lotor’s defeat of Throk had nearly been a given, but the crowd’s reaction to his speech? Lotor had taken his ideals and wrapped them in galran armor, presenting as just harsh enough to be in line with the empire, just reasonable enough in his mercy to not violate imperial sensibilities.

And the crowd had absorbed it instantly, cheering Lotor’s name and raising salute. That, Keith hadn’t expected. He’d expected there would be more resistance to the changes Lotor planned to make to the empire.

“The masses are easily manipulated,” Lotor said easily. He walked passed the generals, paused, and turned slightly. “Have Throk transferred out to the Ulippa System immediately.” He narrowed his eyes. “Let him rot with the ice worms.”

Keith snorted. “The Ulippa system, huh?” he asked.

“Oooh, looks like _someone_ got on the new Emperor’s bad side,” Ezor said teasingly, baring her teeth in a smirk.

“Is that wise?” Acxa asked dryly, casting a warning look at Ezor. “Do we know what the current commander in charge did to be sentenced to that post?”

Lotor shrugged. “If I recall correctly, she lost three shipments of quintessence in a row due to rebels destroying her cargo ships. My father doesn’t – didn’t – tolerate the waste of quintessence lightly.”

Acxa seemed mollified by that.

_So, now what?_ Narti tilted her head slightly as she angled her fingers to scratch behind Kova’s ear. _Did you gather useful intelligence from the gladiators?_

“I did,” Lotor said. “But come. We must not speak of it here.”

* * *

“There is stirring among the underclasses – career gladiators, guards, and slaves alike,” Lotor began when they were all clustered back in his quarters, after another perfunctory sweep to ensure no recording devices had been installed while the quarters were unoccupied. “It is rare to encounter such unified optimism, especially among slaves. It seems that word of my father’s defeat at the hands of Voltron has reached even them.” Lotor’s lips turned up in a humorless smile. “They seem to believe it is only a matter of time before Voltron liberates them. Similarly, the guards seem to believe an attack from Voltron may be imminent, and are on-edge, waiting for either a slave rebellion or the appearance of Voltron itself. It’s a volatile situation that can’t possibly end well.”

“How so?” Ezor asked, tilting her head and assessing Lotor with narrowed eyes.

Lotor steepled his fingers together, frowning. “I’m still not comfortable allying with Voltron,” he said after a moment’s pause. “If Voltron attacks Central Command – and they will, eventually – we could lose what power we’ve gained here. All the same, if they do not come, I expect tensions will continue to grow amongst the slave gladiators, likely resulting in an uprising. Such an uprising at Central Command cannot possibly end well – we won’t have the luxury of being allowed to ignore it, the way my father ignored uprisings on planets liberated by Voltron.”

Keith frowned and crossed his arms. “So, what do we do?”

Lotor grimaced. “We need to gather more intelligence,” he said finally. “I’ve been content to ignore Voltron until now, but at this point, we are likely to find ourselves in battle with them sooner or later, as foes. If we can just assess their capabilities, I can modify my plans to account for them.”

Acxa frowned and reached for her datapad. “Didn’t we receive some sort of update on Voltron’s activities a few days ago?” she asked the other generals.

Keith frowned. Now that they were at central command and registered as top generals to the Emperor Pro Tem, updates had been pouring in to his datapad more quickly than he could keep up with them. “Maybe,” he said, nearly in unison with Zethrid.

Narti inclined her head. _I believe it was two days ago._

“I found it,” Acxa said, stepping around the others and stopping next to Lotor, who bent slightly to read the report on her datapad.

“Liberated a slave-class food resource planet known as Puig,” Lotor mused. “To my knowledge, the Puigians maintained small militias before they were conquered. If they kept up the practice in secret, it’s possible that the Puigians themselves assisted Voltron in securing their freedom,” he mused. “Still, they were never a terribly advanced race – I can’t imagine they would hold out long if the empire ever chose to retake the planet.”

“Meaning?” Zethrid prompted.

Lotor’s frown eased. “Thus far, Voltron’s tactics appear to involve freeing planets and then abandoning them. Had my father possessed any mind for strategy not overtaken by his pathological desire for the black lion, Voltron would be hard-pressed to ensure even a single planet remained free for longer than a phoeb. Still, they must know there is a possibility their freed planets will be re-conquered – they must have left the people with a means to summon Voltron for protection.”

“Maybe they armed the people and taught them to fight before leaving,” Keith suggested. “Or left behind some sort of protection squad.”

“Perhaps,” Lotor said, sounding skeptical. “I suppose we’ll find out. We will leave tomorrow to re-take planet Puig and see how exactly Voltron protects their liberated planets.”

Something heavy settled in Keith’s gut at that. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked quietly.

Lotor turned to face Keith, his expression softening somewhat. “I know that conquering a planet that doesn’t wish to join the empire is antithetical to our overall plan,” he said gently, “but this is merely intelligence gathering. Once we’ve gained intelligence on Voltron, we will withdraw the planet.”

That was marginally better, at least.

“Dismissed,” Lotor said, relaxing his stance.

Keith saluted with the others, then picked up his data pad where he’d left it that morning, intending to search the database of conquered planets and find out more about planet Puig. He dropped onto one of the entryway chairs and pulled up one of the recent reports.

Several vargas passed before Keith finally set aside the data pad. He glanced hesitantly at the door to Lotor’s room, and heat bloomed in his face. He’d shared Lotor’s bed the first few nights when the prince had stayed in his quarters, and had slept in it alone while Lotor had infiltrated the gladiator arena.

He didn’t want to presume, but his eyes were beginning to burn, and the chair was decidedly not designed for sleeping.

“You look like you’ll fall asleep where you sit.” Keith jumped as Lotor’s hushed voice cut through the otherwise quiet room. “I believe the others have retired to bed, and I intend to do so myself.”

A glance to the side revealed that Narti had passed out stretched across the bench, her datapad still on and serving as a bed for Kova. Keith nodded and stretched. “I guess I should sleep too,” he said quietly.

Lotor nodded. “Shall we, then?” he asked, gesturing towards his door.

Well, that answered that question. Keith ignored the stutter in his chest as he rose and followed the prince across the open space to his room. Keith easily located his nightclothes and turned away, his back facing Lotor as he began to strip off his armor.

Once clothed in his sleepwear, Keith turned, intending to crawl into bed and fall asleep (and remain strictly on his side of the bed, this time). His breath caught in his throat, and he let out a slightly strangled sound at the sight before him.

Lotor had changed from his armor to a set of sleep pants – and only pants, leaving his muscled back bare and open to Keith’s eyes. He had drawn his hair over his shoulder, his fingers flying in quick, practiced motions to draw the silver strands into a braid.

Lotor glanced over at Keith. “Are you all right?” he asked, turning around and _no,_ that was even worse, every movement of his hands scaling down his braid drawing Keith’s attention, drawing Keith’s gaze to Lotor’s defined chest, his sculpted abdomen…

Keith tore his gaze away. “I’m fine,” he said firmly. “Just tired.”

Lotor nodded. “Very well. Get some sleep,” he said, nodding at the bed.”

Sleep. Right. Keith wasn’t sure which urge was stronger – the urge to flee into the depths of the ship and never show his face again, or the desire to cross the room and pull Lotor’s body flush against his own. Neither was an option, so Keith dragged himself over to the bed, burrowing under the covers and determinedly facing the wall.

A few doboshes later the bed dipped slightly as Lotor climbed beneath the covers. Heat radiated from Lotor’s bare torso, and Keith was all too aware that the distance between them was small enough to be negligible. He curled in on himself and took a deep, measured breath.

It would be a while before he slept that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of disdain for Zarkon's handling of Voltron liberating planets. Dude has pretty much the entire universe under control, you'd think he could re-direct some of his fleets to basically go behind Voltron and re-conquer their freed worlds after Voltron leaves the area! But noooo, he sends the fleets WHILE Voltron is there to be destroyed, then doesn't send anyone in to re-take command after Voltron has left the area. Good grief, Zarkon, how the heck did you conquer the universe in the first place.
> 
> ....Also, enjoy Keith suffering from thirst for Lotor.
> 
> Okay, less-fun news: As of 5/19/2018, Desideratum is going on short-term hiatus. I don't expect it will last much longer than a month (if that), but there definitely will not be updates in the next two weeks at least, possibly longer. Long story short, I'm moving at the beginning of June, and I don't think I'll be mentally present enough to write decent chapters while packing up my current place and getting utilities and stuff set up at the new place. And then moving itself will also be distracting.
> 
> It should be a pretty short hiatus, but have a head's-up. Feel free to message me on tumblr if you want updates on status of when I will resume this fic!


	26. Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Re-taking Puig "for the Galra Empire" is a means to an end, that's all. Keith wonders if maybe he's going soft.

The flight to Puig wasn’t long – a few quintants, at most, just long enough for Keith to review the available intelligence on the puigians. A fairly standard species – not terribly warlike, though they’d had their own wars between factions before being conquered by the Empire. Likely, they would set aside any remaining factions to present a unified front if attacked again.

Puigian values included family and community. Death was nearly unilaterally regarded as a tragedy. The Empire had not bothered to supplement their technology or assist with medical care or resources, resulting in a population that skewed naturally young and hardy. Weapons would be primitive, but individual warriors may be formidable.

In all likelihood, securing the current acting leader of the largest city would be mostly sufficient to subdue the entire population – at least for the short time they planned to stay. Lotor had been more than clear – they were not to permanently retake the planet. Puig was a means to an end.

The cruiser, set to autopilot, glided slowly through the atmosphere, set to hover above the center of the main city. Keith stood with the other generals in the open dispatch bay, his orders echoing in his head. Just hostage-taking – he could do that. Lotor had left Acxa in charge of mission coordination in the field this time, and he highly doubted that she would ask him to deviate from their orders. At Acxa’s cue, they jumped, and Keith activated his calf-jets to slow his descent and glide into position.

“Ezor, find the leader,” Acxa reminded them. “The rest of you, take prisoners. Kill no one.”

Missions with a standing no-kill order were rare, but then, they weren’t out to antagonize Voltron more than necessary. Killing their allies might just be a step too far.

Rather than drawing his sword, Keith pulled his blaster from his holster, and flipped the setting to ‘contain.’ No sooner had he switched the settings than a blast of pink light streaked past him, just barely grazing his helmet. Keith fired instinctively on the attacker, taking two hits to knock the puigian woman backwards, leaving her wrapped in a low-level energy field.

It wasn’t much of a fair fight, if Keith was being honest as he shot down both active rebels and fleeing civilians. Then again, putting down rebellions rarely was a fair fight – the Empire didn’t generally allow its conquered subjects to learn proficiency in fighting.

It was just for a few quintants, he reminded himself as he fired and a net of energy wrapped around a fleeing mother and her two terrified children. Just until Voltron came to the aid of their allies.

Ezor’s voice crackled on his comms. _“What’s this? Some kind of communicator?”_ she asked. So she’d located the leader. Keith tapped his wrist communicator to pull up her location, firing off a shot at a charging local as he did so. Location acquired, he turned and sprinted towards what seemed to be some sort of public temple.

He caught up with the others just in time to see Ezor whip around, re-directing the puigian leader’s trajectory so that his own body weight sent him crashing to the ground. Keith kept a hand on his blaster, allowing Acxa to take the lead in activating her weapon. The puigian, a bulky four-fingered man with colorful marks on his face, trembled slightly, but leveled a hateful glare at Acxa. He moved to rise, and Ezor clamped a hand on his shoulder, offering one of her trademark poisonous smiles as she shook her finger in admonishment.

The leader leveled his furious glare at Lotor. “Who – who are you?” he demanded, fear overtaking hatred as his eyes darted between the generals.

“You dare speak to Prince Lotor?” Acxa snapped imperiously. Keith bit back a snort at that. Overselling it, much? He’d tease her about it when they were all back on the cruiser.

“Now, Acxa,” Lotor began. Keith could just barely hear the smothered laughter in his own voice. “That’s no way to treat our new ally. Let him continue.”

The puigian squared his shoulders. “W-we will not be enslaved again!” he declared, his voice wavering slightly. “We are free!”

 _Apparently only if there’s a giant robot around to protect you,_ Keith thought.

“According to whom?” Lotor asked, drawing up haughtily to glare down at the man. “Your savior, Voltron? And where is your precious protector now?” He inclined his head condescendingly. “Gone, leaving you with a hollow promise of freedom – and now you must answer for what you’ve done.”

The puigian’s eyes widened, and the air in the temple seemed to drop substantially as he let out a tiny gasp of distress. Keith grimaced, reminding himself that this was for a few quintants at most. Lotor seemed confident that Voltron would be able to respond to a Puigian distress call relatively immediately – Keith hoped he was right.

Maybe he was going soft, working with Lotor. He was fairly certain that when he’d worked under Major Sanksi, he’d have been able to look this terrified alien in the eyes and barely feel even a tinge of regret.

A part of him thought he might prefer to go soft than to be so callous again.

After a long moment, the puigian slumped forward. “Please,” he begged, staring at the ground. “Spare my people. Show them mercy.”

Lotor tutted softly. “Mercy has never been the way of the Galra,” he mused, his tone light. “Until now,” he added. From behind, Keith couldn’t see Lotor’s expression, but he could picture his sharp grin.

The Puigian leader jolted, staring up at Lotor with confusion and dismay just as Lotor dropped to one knee and leaned forward, on eye-level with the alien. “How would you like to become a valuable part of the new Empire?” he asked magnanimously. “Join us, and you’ll never need Voltron again.”

Keith hid a wince as Ezor grabbed the man’s face from behind and forced his lips into a pantomime of a grin. _Really,_ Ezor?

“Smile,” Ezor ordered, her gleeful voice dripping venom. “We’re a team now!”

The leader shook his head, dislodging Ezor’s hands. “No,” he said, his voice quavering. “No, I won’t betray my people!”

“It is in the best interests of your people to ally with the Galra Empire,” Lotor said haughtily. “We can provide resources and support that Voltron cannot, including protection. You wish for freedom for your people? Done, if you accept my offer. I cannot promise that any fleet I send to retake your pitifully guarded planet will be so kind.”

The leader just shook his head again, his gaze hardening. “The answer is no,” he said, a hint of iron creeping into his voice. “Voltron will protect us.”

Lotor sighed and rose. “Well, I knew there was a possibility you’d decline,” he said. “Narti – what we discussed, please.”

The puigian barely had time to flinch before Narti was upon him, elbowing Ezor out of the way and laying a hand on the leader’s back. Keith watched with fascination as the man went rigid, a purple glow flashing over his eyes before they returned to normal.

“We’ll take the leader to a… safe place, while we deal with the rest of the rebellion,” Lotor said.

“Shouldn’t we have them contact Voltron now?” Keith asked, frowning.

Lotor shook his head. “I want to see how Voltron reacts towards a planet they just recently freed becoming entirely subdued,” he said firmly. “I would prefer to assess their power when the stakes are at their highest, rather than when they anticipate help from allies.”

Keith stifled a groan. “So we have to put down the _entire_ rebellion before letting them make contact?” he asked unhappily.

“Don’t sound so sad about it!” Zethrid said cheerfully, cracking her knuckles.

“It may speed things along if I take their leader and order the rebellion to stand down.” Keith jumped at the sound of the Puigian leader’s voice and turned to stare at him. Narti tilted her head, and Keith realized that it was her words that had come from the puigian’s mouth.

“It may, but we should be prepared for a fight nonetheless,” Lotor said. “No matter. I anticipate that we will have the planet subdued by the end of the quintant. Once the planet is secure, we will allow the leader to contact Voltron.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone thought that the imperialism tag was no longer relevant. Nah, but at least it's imperialism with good end-game intentions? Right? No?
> 
> I have a lot of thoughts about how Lotor handled Puig and why he went about things the way he did. Like, so many. Actually, I have so many thoughts about why Lotor did pretty much everything we saw him do as Emperor Pro Tem.
> 
> And as you can see, Desideratum is officially off hiatus and we're back to weekly updates! I wasn't sure if hiatus would end this week or next week, but I got my office mostly set up and heck, I needed a break from unpacking anyways. And it means we got one last update before season 6 drops! (I don't anticipate season 6 having any impact on the direction I'm going with Desideratum, but hey, you never know I guess?)


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to gather data on Voltron's capabilities.

As it turned out, the remaining puigian rebels did _not_ take kindly to an order to stand down, even from their leader. Narti and Lotor retreated to the cruiser with the leader, whom Keith had no doubt would be enjoying the hospitality of the onboard cells until the rest of the rebellion had been subdued. Acxa accompanied them, on Lotor’s orders to track down Voltron’s most recent movements and predict its arrival to the planet.

Despite the tenacity of the remaining rebels and their sworn determination to fight to the end, it took only a few vargas to subdue the planet entirely. Those who had not been captured had fled, seeking camouflage amongst the noncombatants, most of whom had sealed themselves in their homes. With the captured rebels sealed in one of the settlement’s large central buildings and the rest in hiding, Keith made his way towards the transport to meet the others.

Keith sheathed his blaster as he stepped onto the automated transport craft Lotor had sent down from the cruiser. He exchanged a friendly nod with Zethrid, then settled back to wait for the others.

Ezor brought up the rear. “That was fun!” Ezor said brightly as the craft took off towards the cruiser. “Not much of a challenge, though.”

“No kidding,” Zethrid grumbled, baring her teeth with annoyance. “Cowardly weaklings.”

“Not sure cowardly is the word I’d pick,” Keith said, raising his eyebrows. “Untrained and inexperienced, more like. They _were_ slaves only a few quintants ago.”

Zethrid snorted derisively. “And now they’re slaves again,” she complained, “thanks to their own weakness!”

Keith sighed. It was an uncomfortable truth “It’s only for a few quintants, and then we’ll leave them alone,” he said flatly, as much to convince himself as Zethrid. “Maybe Voltron will take the time to train their freed planets in combat, now that they’ve seen one retaken.”

The shuttle docked and Ezor was the first out, stepping jauntily as she led them towards the bridge for debrief. Keith expected it would be relatively painless, considering that the mission had gone exactly according to plan.

Acxa and Narti stood at the center of the bridge, both occupied with the flat tactical holoscreen. Lotor, lounging in the bridge’s command chair, offered a sharp-toothed grin as the generals entered. “Excellent – you’re back,” he said cheerfully. “I told you they wouldn’t take long,” he added, glancing at Narti.

 _Longer than if we’d gone back after securing the Puigian leader._ The annoyance Narti projected was undercut with something playful, almost admonishing.

“It took what, three vargas? We’d have shaved off a few doboshes at most, and no more,” Lotor said, then turned to nod at the rest of the generals. “Report.”

Ezor smiled disdainfully. “It seems that Voltron and their allies are spread so thin, they cannot protect any of the insurgent planets,” she said brightly. “But we knew that already. They went down easy, no surprises like, say, a group of trained rebels stationed on-planet for protection.”

“As expected,” Lotor said. “And the rebellion?”

Zethrid grinned. “Crushed,” she declared triumphantly.

“The ones that we didn’t secure are disbanded and in hiding among the civilians,” Keith added. “I don’t expect they’ll be much of a threat.”

“Good.” Lotor inclined his head. “Acxa, what of Voltron?”

Acxa nodded and indicated the screen. “In the movement since you took the throne, the Voltron lions have been sighted in these three locations,” she said, indicating the screen. “Planet Puig is the only loss to the empire and the only instance in which Voltron was formed. It’s unclear what business the lions had in the other locations, but from previous intelligence, they appear to be keeping pattern in freeing planets once or twice per movement.”

Keith frowned. “From all the fuss that’s been raised about Voltron, I’m surprised they aren’t faster to free planets,” he commented.

“I’m not,” Lotor murmured, his brow furrowing. “Their speed is terribly reckless. It’s a wonder – well. Perhaps this incident will teach them caution.” Lotor shifted his gaze to Narti. “Narti, take the leader back to planet Puig. Have him plead for Voltron’s assistance – you know what to do.”

Narti clapped her fist to her chest and inclined her head, then turned to exit the bridge. Lotor turned to the rest of the generals. “Remember, we need only gather intelligence. Once we have engaged enough to determine Voltron’s capability as a weapon and potential foe, we will retreat.”

Zethrid glowered, at that.

Lotor raised an eyebrow. “I understand that a true fight with Voltron would entertain you, Zethrid,” he said, “but we cannot risk fully alienating a potential future ally. We must leave Voltron both operational, and hopefully willing to open negotiations in the future if it’s safe. We’ll attack to gather information and to appear aligned with my Father’s goals, but no unnecessary damage.”

“Fine,” Zethrid muttered. “Worst mission ever,” she added, scowling at Lotor. If he didn’t know her so well, Keith probably would have missed the playful undertone to her expression.

“Never fear, Zethrid,” Lotor said, grinning. “I’m sure that sometime soon, we’ll find something for you to blow up in earnest.”

* * *

Keith stood at his position on the bridge, prepared to pilot the cruiser away in case of an emergency. It was hard not to gape as he stared out the viewscreen at the five lions that hovered, stilled as though in shock, while Ezor and Acxa programmed unmanned fighters to spill from the cruiser’s hangars.  


“Attention, Paladins of Voltron.” Any amusement or apprehension Lotor might have felt was absent from his voice, each word laced with iron, commanding, unyielding, despite the grin that graced his face. “This is Prince Lotor, son of Zarkon, Emperor Pro Tem of the Galra Empire. Surrender now, or you will be destroyed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm sure you can guess from the contents of this chapter, in this verse, Shiro didn't vanish at the end of the battle with Zarkon in season 2. This is partially for my own convenience (I've had them in the Season 4 paladin/lion configuration for pretty much the whole time because Keith isn't there to pilot a lion) and also partially because I don't feel like it adds to the story? At the end of the day, this is very much about Keith and Lotor, and characters like the paladins are here to further their story. Just wanted to clear that up.
> 
> So, the chapter's pretty short because a.) my week was very, very long and energy-draining, and b.) season 6 happened and I'm still trying to process it. It... It sure was a season of Voltron: Legendary Defender that aired on Netflix. I haven't nailed down an opinion on the season, but I've definitely gone the entire range from "Season 6 was great! So intense and I loved it!" to "Season 6 personally murdered me and I want to burn it all down" so... Yeah. My opinion changes and even drastically shifts a few times per hour. Good news is, it's not really going to have any impact on the content of Desideratum.
> 
> But yeah, not very energizing writing conditions. We'll see about next chapter.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor and the generals face off with Voltron for the first time.

“Surrender now, or you will be destroyed.”

From his place at the ship’s controls, Keith watched through the viewscreen, uncertain of what to expect. For  a tick or two, the lions remained hovering, still, complacent.

And then, as one, they swept into formation, flying away from the cruiser.

“Aw, _what?”_ Zethrid complained. “They’re just gonna turn tail and run?”

“Give it a dobash,” Lotor murmured, leaning forward intensely as the lions picked up speed. “I want to see this with my own eyes.”

“See what?” Ezor asked, her eyes narrowing.

Bright light burst suddenly in the viewscreen. Keith shouted in alarm, instinctively raising his hand to shield his eyes. Similar shouts of surprise rang throughout the ship from the other generals, and Narti’s secondhand alarm coursed through Keith like a choppy wave of dread.

When Keith lowered his arm, the lions were gone, replaced by a single, enormous craft.

_Voltron._

Acxa swore quietly. “Now what?” she demanded.

“Now we evade,” Lotor said easily. “Keep the fighters going after it – I want to get a sense of how Voltron fights. Keith, try to keep the cruiser from taking too much damage.”

Apprehension lodged in Keith’s insides as he took the controls. “Copy –”

Voltron _lunged,_ streaking through space and making a beeline for the cruiser. Keith shouted and swerved the cruiser to the side, zipping away from the giant creation. Voltron paused, turned, and changed course, a large yellow cannon materializing on its shoulder. Keith swore as the cannon fired, shooting multiple energy beams that lanced through the cruiser’s fighters, blowing maybe a fifth of their fighters to shreds.

Suddenly, it made a lot more sense to Keith that Zarkon would devote so many resources to tracking down this weapon. For all its status as a legend, he’d never thought it might be legitimately terrifying.

“Zethrid, Ezor fire!” Lotor ordered. Twin beams of purple light shot from the cruiser, only for Voltron’s left arm to materialize a shield, deflecting their shot entirely.

“Uh, how long do we need to take to collect data?” Ezor demanded wildly. “Because I think we _might_ be outclassed here!”

“Acxa, summon reinforcements to our location,” Lotor ordered tightly. “It’s possible that direct engagement was a miscalculation.” The words rang like acid in Keith’s ears.

A swarm of automated fighters flew directly at Voltron, and Keith took the opportunity to maneuver the ship directly behind the craft. “Zethrid!” he shouted.

“You got it!” Zethrid crowed, firing enthusiastically and repeatedly.

Voltron jolted from the force of the lasers, then turned to face them. Despite the emotionless quality of the robotic face, Keith could nearly sense the focused concentration of the pilots within. He cursed, throwing the ship into reverse and pivoting away as quickly as he could manage.

The cannon on Voltron’s shoulder dissolved, and a sword materialized from its right arm. _“Quiznack,”_ Lotor hissed. Keith barely had a tick to reflect on the unfamiliar word before Lotor spoke again. “Keep out of range! The sword strike is Voltron’s most deadly attack.”

Keith opened his mouth to ask how Lotor knew all this, only to be forced to make a sharp swerve as Voltron surged forward, sword extended. The sword missed, instead impaling several fighters in one strike. The resulting explosions rocked the ship, and Keith cursed again, staggering to keep his footing.

“Backup expected in two doboshes,” Acxa shouted over the explosions. “Can we hold out that long?”

“We must,” Lotor said tersely. “Any retreat would be hopeless – Voltron would simply follow us.”

_Shields holding at 83 percent._ Narti’s thoughts felt tense, wired. _Two doboshes might be cutting it close._

Keith snarled, dodging the next strike even as Zethrid fired rapidly, several shots striking the blue lion. “Who says we’re just holding out?” she demanded wildly. “We can crush them here! Stop acting like defeat is a foregone –”

Whatever she was going to say cut off with a yelp as Keith banked hard and she lost her footing. Keith sped to the side to avoid the next blow, his gut churning as the right arm followed his trajectory. “Come on, come –”

_Slam._

Keith cried out as the lights in the cruiser briefly flickered out and the ship bucked, tossing him halfway across the deck. “No – no!” he shouted as the ship stabilized, scrambling to his feet (and over Acxa) to resume his space at the controls. He laid hands on the controls just in time to dodge the next blow.

_Shields at 49 percent._ Keith’s insides clenched at the panic edging Narti’s thoughts. _We can survive one more hit – maybe two if we’re lucky._

“Forty ticks to backup,” Acxa groaned from her position on the floor.

“And then what? We hope they last long enough to distract Voltron while we leave?” Ezor asked, her voice unusually high as she let loose a series of shots.

Zethrid snarled, unleashing a torrent of blows that smashed against the left arm’s shield. “C’mon! We’re really gonna let this punk _robot_ intimidate us?”

“Read the field, Zethrid!” Keith yelled as he swerved away from the sword and blasted forward, sending the cruiser racing towards Puig, Voltron hot behind them. “This cruiser isn’t powerful enough!”

“That doesn’t mean –”

“There!” Lotor shouted as an Imperial cruiser zipped out of hyperspace, then another, then another. Voltron turned, raising its shield to deflect the blows as the cruisers opened fire. “Keith, make the jump to hyperspace as soon as it’s safe.”

Keith punched the controls forward, zipping away from the planet, then entered coordinates for a blank sector of space. He hit the hyperdrive button, relaxing only when the cruiser shot to the new, relatively safe location.

Keith stalled the ship in space and turned, wide-eyed, to face Lotor. “I think we can assume we got enough data?” he suggested.

Lotor nodded, uncharacteristically pale, several hanks of hair spilling disheveled over his shoulders. “I think that’s a safe assumption,” he said. “We certainly know that facing Voltron in a ship of this caliber is dangerous at best – more likely lunacy.” He took a deep, measured breath. “We need more powerful ships.”

Acxa frowned. “Have we made any progress on that comet?” she asked. “The one in the rift?”

Lotor offered a wan smile. “I’m afraid we haven’t personally, Acxa,” he said. “However, I believe that Voltron itself just may provide the answer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of Lotor's ability to kick Paladin butt before he got the comet in season 3 really did seem to hinge on them being unable to form Voltron/being extremely new at forming Voltron. Lotor got extremely lucky, in canon. A group of experienced paladins who've been in their lion configuration for quite a while and are practiced at forming Voltron, on the other hand, I think would give him a lot more trouble.
> 
> (Plus it's a bit fun to write the team getting their butts kicked, considering how competent they normally are.)


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting Voltron one-on-one might have been a miscalculation, but it was one that underscored how urgently Lotor and the generals need the comet trapped in the inter-reality rift.

Before the encounter with Voltron, Keith would probably have considered Lotor’s plan simple and efficient. On the surface, it still was – lure Voltron to the rift, and take the comet from them when they emerged. Lotor was certain that, unlike their fighters, Voltron had the structural integrity to survive passage through the rift, and from there it was just a matter of stealing the comet.

It was just that after seeing Voltron in action, Keith suddenly had doubts about their ability to actually pull off that last part of the heist.

It wasn’t a matter of skill alone. Keith had spent the days it took to fly to the rift with Lotor and the others, going over Voltron’s fighting style and pulling details from reports made by commanders that had encountered Voltron before. No – the Voltron pilots were certainly skilled enough, but the true breaking point was in the quality of the ships. Lotor’s cruiser had been modified to be slightly more powerful than the ships that made up the main fleet, but the lions of Voltron were nearly indestructible. The weapons aboard the cruiser were the height of Galran military technology, yet dealt only a fraction of the damage of even Voltron’s weaker weapons.

He knew those were the very reasons they needed that comet. Keith just hoped they’d be able to get away with it without another direct confrontation.

_“Someone’s_ brooding,” Ezor sing-songed, her hand abruptly invading Keith’s vision. Keith jumped and glared up at her – but really, it was his own fault for retreating to the rec room instead of his own quarters. “I’m about ready to lock you, Acxa, and Lotor all in a supply closet where you can just sit and be negative together.

Keith scowled. “And you’re not worried at all about the prospect of facing Voltron again,” he said sarcastically. “Got it.”

Ezor shrugged. “I don’t _like_ the prospect, no, but this time we know what we’re up against. Besides, we’re just grabbing the comet and going, assuming they even survive the trip.” She socked him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re so grim.”

“And you’re too flippant,” Keith retorted, but he allowed the scowl to drop from his face. “Let me guess, Zethrid and Narti are giving Acxa and Lotor the same talk?”

Ezor hummed. “Well, Acxa’s getting the stop-brooding talk, at least. Not sure how Narti’s going to approach Lotor. He does _not_ like miscalculating.”

“Does anyone?” Keith queried.

“Lotor more than most people,” Ezor said with a shrug. “Now, are you done sulking? Can you come hang out on the bridge like a normal person?

Keith rolled his eyes. “All right, fine,” he said, leveraging himself off his bench. Might as well keep eyes on the viewscreens so they’d have visual when Voltron attempted to enter the rift.

* * *

Watching Voltron enter the rift was tense. Keith clenched his fists and held his breath as the enormous robot paused outside the tear in space, no doubt running scans on the rift itself. His eyes flicked between Voltron and the strange Altean ship, floating silently in space, holding vigil. Voltron drifted, as if hesitant. Maybe its pilots were unprepared to follow Lotor’s cloned Altean distress signal under such precarious circumstances.

A thrill of dread shot through Keith at the concept of Voltron just refusing to enter the rift, leaving Lotor with no way to build ships that could possibly stand against it. He knew that Lotor wouldn’t directly engage Voltron again, but his duties as Emperor Pro Tem could very easily put their team in a position where, once again, they had to face Voltron.

It was a chilling thought.

White light slowly engulfed Voltron, shining brightly as the robot vanished into the other reality. Keith exhaled, allowing his shoulders to slump. Stage one complete, then.

“And now, we wait,” Lotor said, a razor’s edge of a grin crossing his face. “All scanners indicate that Voltron survived the trip into the other reality. They will either return with the comet, or be lost to whatever foes they find on the other side.”

_Or maybe they won’t pick up the comet’s signal and they’ll come back without it anyways._ Narti idly scratched Kova’s ears and angled herself towards Lotor.

Lotor raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s unusually pessimistic even for you, Narti,” he said mildly.

_I don’t think it’s likely, but the possibility is there._

Lotor hummed. “That would be a disappointment,” he admitted. “But one unlikely to pass, I have no doubt.

“Unlikely possibilities aside, this is amazing,” Axca said breathlessly, staring at the central most scan. “Your theory about Voltron was proven correct!”

Zethrid, on the other hand, was frowning. “I was hoping to see some more fireworks when it hit that energy swirl,” she complained. Then she shrugged. “I guess all the previous attempts to get it out were just more enjoyable to watch.”

* * *

_“Something’s coming back through the rift. Be prepared to move quickly,”_ Lotor ordered, his voice crackling through the speaker’s of Keith’s fighter. _“Ready to launch as soon as I fire on the Altean ship.”_

“Understood,” Keith said, his voice echoing in tandem with the other generals.

In a single burst of light, Voltron hurtled, seemingly prone, back into their reality, a large comet streaked with glowing blue falling from its clutches.

“Ready?” Keith asked Acxa, on the other side of the fighter.

_“Systems set to capture rather than damage,”_ Acxa confirmed.

A powerful blast shot from the cruiser and slammed into the Altean ship. “And we’re go!” Keith yelled, blasting forth from the hangar and making a beeline for the comet. He fired only a split-tick after Acxa, sending a powerful capture beam lancing into the side of the comet. On the other side of the comet, Ezor and Zethrid fired their own shots, hooking deep into the comet’s ore. “Now back to the cruiser before they get their bearings back!” Keith called into the comms.

_“Nah, I thought we were going to fight Voltron in these ships while lugging this comet around!”_ Zethrid fired back.

Voltron and the Altean ship drifted behind them, as though stunned. As soon as the fighters docked with the comet in the docking bay and the hatch sealed behind them, Keith knew that Lotor would send them into hyperdrive, away from Voltron. Keith smiled and leaned back in his chair for a few ticks, letting cool relief wash over him.

He fervently hoped this would be their last encounter with Voltron until Lotor deemed it the right time for an alliance.

Keith exited the ships after taking a few ticks to collect himself. “I can’t believe that went so well,” he said, grinning.

“See? All that brooding for nothing,” Ezor said, poking him in the forehead. “C’mon, let’s get back to the bridge and suffer through the debrief.”

Keith shrugged. “This debrief won’t be as painful as last one, at least,” he pointed out. “Since, you know, we won.”

“Not enough blasting for my tastes, but at least we’re the ones who came out on top,” Zethrid agreed.

Lotor and Narti were waiting for them when they entered the bridge as one. “Oh, good, I was beginning to wonder if we should go down to the docking bay and meet you there,” Lotor said brightly.

_I told you they were on their way._ Narti ran a hand over Kova’s spine.

“Yes, well.” Lotor shook his head. “This was a massive victory. “I suggest that we lie low for the most part, for now – engage with the Empire enough to keep from drawing the witch’s suspicion, but focus most of our efforts on engineering ships from this comet. Who knows – if we work quickly enough, we may raise enough power to oust my father before he ever even returns to the throne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't put my finger exactly on why I'm so underwhelmed by this chapter, but it's 11pm where I am and I want this chapter up by midnight. The chapters where I have to take meticulous canon details into account are never my favorites... I know down to pretty much the exact frame of the exact episode where this fic starts disregarding canon entirely, and I'm looking forward to getting there.
> 
> Anyways. Keith is brooding, Voltron is scary, theft is a good and valid way to resolve your problems and begin overthrowing your enemies. (Don't actually do that last one.)


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voltron may pose a problem, but Lotor's true enemies always come from Central Command.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, apologies in advance if the chapter formatting is off, I had to write and post it on my phone. More detailed explanation in the end notes.

In some strange way, retreating to the fringes of the empire to work unseen on the comet felt like coming home. Keith knew that Lotor remotely checked in regularly with Central Command, but they did not return, instead fading into the shadows of the empire to work unseen, as they had before.

  
In retrospect, maybe they should have expected the witch to send spies after them.

  
After three consecutive anomalous readings in a single quintant, they’d located a galra fighter, clearly intent on following their motions. After confirming his presence and bringing him onto the cruiser, Lotor had sent Narti and Zethrid to take custody of the spy and strip him of his weapons.

  
Said spy currently stood, shaking with anger, before Lotor. Keith and the other generals formed a loose circle around him, weapons drawn, trapping him on the bridge of the cruiser.

  
“General Raht,” Lotor said coolly, his affect almost bored. Even Keith was nearly fooled – the slight pinch to the corners of Lotor's eyes nearly masked behind his collected affect. “It's certainly unexpected to see you in this sector of space. I have to wonder what business brings you out this way.”

  
As if they didn't all know the answer.

  
“My Lord,” Raht began, his thick, throaty growl incredulous. “I am only here on orders.”

  
Lotor raised an eyebrow. “And whose orders are those?” he asked coldly. “I should very much like to know whose authority you believe outstrips your emperor's.”

  
Keith tightened his grip on his sword as Raht shifted, towering over everyone else on the bridge. “High Priestess Haggar, on behalf of Emperor Zarkon, My Lord.”

  
The emphasis he put on Zarkon's name and status was almost comical, Keith thought idly.

  
Lotor’s lips quirked slightly, no humor behind his gaze. “I assume that the witch means to follow my movements,” he mused. “Well, that cannot stand. I suppose I'll need to send her a message of my own – the consequences that will befall the cronies she sends after me.”

  
Keith grimaced. He almost felt sorry for General Raht. Almost.

  
“I'm not unmerciful,” Lotor continued, rising from his command chair. Even standing, Raht towered over him, yet Lotor managed to stare imperiously, as though looking down on him. “I am willing to allow you to keep your life, if not your status and citizenship. I offer you the choice – death or exile, for treason against the Emperor.”

  
Raht glowered. “Just because you stand in place of your father, does not make you Emperor,” he snarled. “You did not take power honorably by lighting the flame at the Kral Zera. You’re nothing more than a figurehead – I reject your accusations of treachery, and your sentence! Your status does not outstrip that of the true Emperor's most trusted advisor!”

  
Lotor sighed. “Think carefully before you make your decision, General,” he advised. “It's hardly as if you have backup, or witnesses –"

  
Keith saw the shift in Raht's position less than a tick before the general lunged. “Look out!” he shouted.

  
But Lotor was already moving, graceful as molten steel, dodging effortlessly and withdrawing his sword in one swift motion. "Stand down!” he ordered as Zethrid made a move to join the fight.

  
Zethrid snarled, but fell back. Lotor, for his part, brandished his sword at Raht. “There’s no need to attempt to take me by surprise,” Lotor said, raising a patronizing eyebrow. “If you mean to challenge my verdict, why don't you do so openly, with honor?”

  
“You have no honor,” Raht growled in reply.

  
Lotor exhaled. “Well, then, I suppose I have little choice,” he said. With no further warning he lunged, his sword just barely glancing off Raht's prosthetic arm.

  
The fight, such as it was, was over in less than dobash, leaving Raht dead on the bridge floor, his throat cut. Lotor's face betrayed no expression as he crossed the bridge and retrieved a cloth to clean the blood from his sword. “We will return that to Central Command,” he said, his voice flat, nodding at Raht's body. “I want the witch to fully understand the consequences of sending spies after me.”

  
“Sir,” Acxa began tentatively.

  
“Acxa, I value your input, but I cannot allow the witch to continue to send spies,” Lotor said, a slight edge to his voice. “Not now – if she discovers what we're doing…” He trailed off. “We will confront the witch, and then I'm afraid we must turn our efforts slightly from creation of the ships to procurement and development of a teleduv. If this-" he gestured at Raht's corpse “–happens again, I want a more viable method to evade the spy without resorting to bloodshed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, one of the problems with living in bumfuck nowhere is that my county only has one internet provider... which sucks and is inconsistent as heck. I'm talking less than 1.5 stars on Consumer Reports, and also it's not even a verified internet provider. I haven't had wireless access in nearly a week, so posting from my computer was out... So I had to write this chapter on my phone so I could use data to post. I hate writing on my phone, so, apologies if this chapter is a bit lacking.
> 
> Regarding the chapter itself: I always did wonder how things went down with General Raht. Lotor's confrontation where he dramatically dropped Raht's prosthetic at Haggar's feet is the scene that sold me on his character, honestly. How someone so sneaky can also be such a drama queen (Drama prince? Drama emperor?) is beyond me, but I love it.


	31. Chapter Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's far too risky to collect the materials needed to build a teleduv from Empire supply bases. Lotor finds an alternate source of components.

Keith wasn’t present for Lotor’s confrontation of the witch at Central Command. He remained aboard Lotor’s cruiser with the rest of the generals while Lotor himself went to deliver Raht’s severed prosthetic to the witch – the prosthetic, and some choice words.

“We’re completely sure no one’s onto us, right?” Ezor worried from her position on the bridge. “I mean – why send someone to follow Lotor? We’ve been doing a good job keeping our cover, I thought.”

Keith snorted. “Yeah, but we also destroyed all the trackers and recording devices she put in Lotor’s quarters and on the cruiser,” he pointed out. “You do remember our first day at Central, right?”

“There’s a difference between recording devices and _people,”_ Zethrid replied cheerfully. “Of course we’d destroy recording devices if we found them. I’ll bet she didn’t expect we’d do the same thing to one of her living spies!”

Keith shook his head, his lips quirking slightly upwards. With luck, the witch would think twice before trying to track them again.

The alert screen beeped, indicating that the docking bay hatch was opening. “Looks like Lotor’s back,” Acxa commented. “Everyone, settle in for debrief.”

Several doboshes passed in silence before the bridge doors hissed open. Lotor stalked onto the bridge, his face grim. “I do not believe the witch will send living spies after us again,” he said abruptly, “but we shall have to be even more vigilant to ensure no more trackers are installed – I destroyed one attached to my fighter on the short trip from Central Command back to the cruiser.”

Keith bit back a hiss and curled his fists, willing his claws to remain sheathed. Something about the heaviness in Lotor’s shoulders, the anger in his eyes, burned him to his core. Lotor had been more affected by his confrontation of Haggar than he was letting on, Keith just knew it.

_We ought to change our cloaking protocols._ Narti took a cautious step towards Lotor. _But that is not the only thing bothering you._

Lotor took a deep, measured breath. “It is not a matter of importance,” he said flatly. “The witch uses words as a poisonous weapon. I will not allow them to have any power over me.”

“But she won’t be sending more spies after us?” Acxa asked, her brow furrowing.

“I think not,” Lotor agreed. “Not because she values their lives, but rather because she did not anticipate that we would catch Raht so quickly.” He snorted, his ears flicking back. “If nothing else, the witch does praise efficiency the way my father never did. She’ll search for other methods to track my movements.”

“She won’t find one.” The words tumbled out of Keith’s mouth before he could stop them. Warmth burned through his veins at the thought of the witch, so determined to sink her claws into Lotor and keep them there. How dare she? How _dare_ Zarkon’s little advisor put Lotor in such a vulnerable position? “We’ll get this teleduv thing made, and that’ll help, right?”

A wan smile twitched across Lotor’s face. “If nothing else, it will allow us to frustrate her by simply vanishing and appearing in a new place seemingly at random,” he admitted. “It doesn’t solve the long-term – well, no matter,” he said, visibly drawing himself up, straightening his shoulders and wiping his face of expression.

Something in Keith ached, to see Lotor so deliberately taking back control.

“In any case, as it stands, creation of a teleduv is currently our priority,” Lotor admitted, nodding at Keith. “I believe a fragment of the teleduv Voltron used to take my father down is currently being stored in the Ulippa System. I’d like to examine it in person before attempting to build my own – schematics and instructions just aren’t the same as physical, in-person examination.”

“Ooh, we can say hi to your old friend Throk,” Ezor practically sang, a grin splitting her face.

Lotor snorted, his blank mask easing slightly.  “I must say, I won’t be sorry when he inevitably takes the fall for losing part of the teleduv,” he admitted. “We’ll get to that. I’d like to bolster our supplies first – just the basic ones needed for construction of the teleduv. With the exception of scaultrite, which we already have –” he nodded at Acxa, who raised an eyebrow in response “– all other components seem to be relatively standard and easy to procure.”

_There’s a supply base not too far from here._ Narti tilted her head slightly.

Lotor shook his head. “As you said earlier, we ought to change our protocols, but we also ought to change our patterns of movement,” he said. “Besides, I’d rather not have any record of us procuring these supplies in an Empire database. No, we’ll have to procure these components through less official channels.

* * *

“And you’re sure about this?” Ezor asked for at least the fifth time, still sounding skeptical as she adjusted the bright blue cloak where it fastened around her throat. “It seems a little too gaudy to, you know, _blend in.”_

Keith was forced to agree, fiddling with the bright red cloak that draped over his armor, concealing the orange and blue accents that marked him as one of Lotor’s trusted.

“I’m certain,” Lotor said, as though his grey cloak even came close to the flashiness of everyone else’s coverings. “To blend in, we must appear to be civilians. In places such as this, color and lack of uniformity will only aide us in going undetected.”

Well, it wasn’t as though Keith had that much experience with the civilian world. He supposed he would just have to trust that Lotor knew what he was talking about when it came down to blending in at a mall.

A mall. Keith was vaguely familiar with the concept from books he’d read on Earth, but the thing that they were approaching was completely foreign to him, even from the outside.

It certainly was very different from any ordinary supply base.

The sheer _brightness_ was the first thing Keith noticed upon entering the building. He grimaced, blinking rapidly as his eyes watered in the light. White walls, fluorescent lights and pale-colored advertisements –

“Ow,” he heard Acxa mutter. A glance to the side revealed her pressing a hand over her eyes, grimacing. “Think they could stand to tone down the brightness in here?”

Lotor shrugged. “It’s comfortable for most species,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m fine with the lights. Quit being weak!” Zethrid joked.

_I’m perfectly fine with the lighting myself._ Narti’s thoughts were completely bland, and Keith couldn’t help but shoot her a glare, even knowing she wouldn’t see it.

Lotor pulled his datapad from the confines of his cloak and glanced down at the screen. “It’s most likely that the lower levels will have the sort of technical supplies we need,” he said. “We’ll begin at the lowest level and work our way up.”

Collecting supplies for the teleduv was tedious, albeit fairly simple. It didn’t take long before Keith realized why Lotor had brought them all along, despite their lack of technical knowledge; the required components were many, and it would clearly take all six of them just to carry all the supplies. Keith took what amusement he could from dumping yet another bag of bolts and connectors over Zethrid’s forearm, even if he was rewarded almost immediately by Ezor dropping an enormous bundle of thin metal connectors on him, which he nearly dropped in surprise.

“Is that everything?” Acxa asked after several vargas and the thirteenth shop.

“Nearly,” Lotor said, awkwardly shifting and adjusting his grip on the bulky sheets of metal he’d acquired at the last stop. “We need to find a shop that sells flux-array connection points, and  then we can leave.

“I vote we take a break,” Ezor suggested, her normally bright voice strained. “What?” she asked Keith turned nearly in tandem with the others to glare at her. “We can find those flux-whatevers later! We’ve been here vargas, and –” she offered a tired grin “– I saw signs for a food court.”

A food court. A chance to eat food not prepared on a galra ship for the first time in _decaphoebs._ Suddenly, Keith was a lot more enthusiastic about the whole break idea.

“I side with Ezor,” Zethrid butted in. “Food court sounds good.”

“We don’t have time,” Lotor began.

“We can spare a varga,” Keith said and by the stars, he didn’t even care that he’d interrupted his leader.

“Real food,” Acxa murmured wistfully in agreement. Keith wondered if she’d even realized she’d spoken out loud.

Lotor sighed and shook his head. “Very well,” he said reluctantly. “I suppose we can spare a varga after all.”

* * *

Keith had not expected that the food stall run by a large half-galra would be the most popular dining option in the mall, but the line for Vrepit Sal’s (and Keith had rarely heard a noise so disgusted as the one Lotor produced when he saw the name of the stall) was at least three times as long as the line to any other eatery in the entire food court. Zethrid had been the one to question the aliens at the back of the line, all of whom assured her that yes, Sal produced the most tender, delectable fare in the entire mall – some even said in the entire system.

Which was how Keith found himself standing before the imposing man, who squinted down at Keith for a few ticks and then handed him a ticket. “Number 568,” he said. “One-thousand GAC.”

Keith frowned, even as he reached for his satchel to pull out the amount owed. “I didn’t tell you what I ordered,” he said. One-thousand GAC seemed steep for a mystery meal.

Sal chuckled. “Trust me kid, nothing that comes out of this kitchen is less than perfect. Haven’t had a single customer complaint since… well, let’s just say it’s been a while.”

“Since the kid genius taught Sal everything he knows!” a blue-skinned alien warbled from the back.

“Right. That.” Sal waved Keith off and turned back to the food – how was he cooking and taking orders at the same time?

Whatever. Narti had scouted out a table while the rest of them were in line. Keith made his way towards her and collapsed at the bench, setting down his armload of teleduv components with a groan.

Zethrid joined him less than a dobosh later, brandishing a ticket that read 569. “He seems suspicious,” she grunted. “But hey, can’t be worse than what we’d get if we’d waited for the ship’s mess, am I right?”

Keith snorted. “Too true,” he agreed.

Acxa, Ezor, and Lotor filed over to the table in order, each clutching their tickets with an air of uncertainty. No sooner had Lotor sat down than Keith heard Sal bellow across the court “568, your order is up!”

“Guess I’m the test subject,” Keith said with a grin, leveraging himself off the bench and heading towards the stall to pick up his food.

The first thing that his Keith was the _smell_ of the dish, clean and fresh and seasoned with some sort of alien spices. The dish seemed to be some sort of basic flesh meat, drizzled in some sort of sauce and accompanied by mashed… something. His mouth watered at the smell of it, and he had to resist the urge to start eating before he’d even made it back to the table.

The first bite was ecstasy after decaphoebs of galran cuisine. Keith couldn’t stop the groan that escaped him. “This was the best decision ever,” he proclaimed, as Zethrid rose to the call of “569!”

“It can’t possibly be that good,” Lotor said, though he stared at Keith’s plate with renewed interest.

“No, it is,” Zethrid said, plunking her plate down next to Keith’s. From the way she licked sauce off her fingers, Keith guessed she’d had no qualms about eating while she walked. “Sorry sir, but I’m changing allegiance. I’m backing this Sal guy from now on.”

Narti smacked Zethrid’s leg with her tail. _Quiet about that in public!_

“Yeah, yeah,” Zethrid grumbled, taking another bite.

Keith steadily made his way through the plate of food as the others rose when called to collect their orders. He was nearly halfway through when Lotor finally came back with his food and settled the plate on the table. “You’ve all given me very high expectations for this dish,” he warned them, before spearing a cut of meat with his spork and raising it to his lips.

Keith could tell the moment Lotor registered the taste of the morsel on his tongue. His eyes went wide and he froze, still for a solid few ticks before seeming to remember how to chew and swallow. “That,” Lotor began unsteadily, “is… You’re right. You were all very right. Stopping at this food court was an excellent idea.” He took another bite. “I believe we may mark this mall as a place of interest to collect supplies.”

“Because of the food court?” Ezor teased.

“Oh hush,” Lotor retorted. “The range of shops here seems adequate to see to our needs without being forced to rely on supply bases. That is the primary reason to consider the mall somewhere we may return to.”

“But also, the food court,” Keith couldn’t help but tease.

“You’re allowed to say it’s the food court, sir,” Zethrid joked.

Acxa cleared her throat. “Everyone, be serious,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “This mall has supplies we desperately need – mostly, food that doesn’t make me want to die when I eat it.”

Between her deadpan tone and the expression of exasperation on Lotor’s face, Keith found it impossible to contain his laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been sitting on this chapter for like. Nine months. All those references I threw in back in early chapters about Galran food being awful were because I wanted to write this chapter. Move over, Lotor, Sal (and by extension, Hunk) is now the person the generals will most willingly follow into battle. Also, this remains completely canon-adjacent because there's no evidence in canon to suggest that Lotor and the generals never went to the space mall and ate at Vrepit Sal's - just saying.
> 
> Anyways, a bit of light-heartedness amidst all of Lotor's plans and technical scheming.


	32. Chapter Thirty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Sincline ship is completed. The generals battle Throk in the Ulippa System

With the components for the teleduv acquired, if not assembled, the next logical solution was a trip to the Ulippa System.

The plan was relatively solid, as far as Keith could tell. They’d transferred from Lotor’s cruiser to a standard cargo chip for the trip, to maintain anonymity. Narti would take Throk over and allow the rest of them access to the base to retrieve the teleduv component. From there, Narti was confident that she could erase Throk’s memory of the event – or at least warp and bury it deep within. Throk would take the fall for them, and Lotor could reverse-engineer the teleduv component to better build more.

The first comet ship was nearing completion, its outer form and inner workings a continuous project for engineering drones. The process seemed fast to Keith, but Lotor made daily visits to the ship to check progress himself, and to familiarize himself with the ship’s energy – Keith didn’t even pretend to understood what Lotor meant by that.

They were two days travel out from the Ulippa System when Lotor barged unceremoniously onto the training deck, a triumphant glint in his eyes.

“It calls itself Sincline,” Lotor announced abruptly as the generals paused in their activities, leaving Keith standing awkwardly with his sword hefted over Zethrid’s prone torso. “The ship – once the other ships are completed, they will combine to form Sincline.” He grinned, almost alarmingly wide. “A total of three ships, with the capacity for multiple pilots per ship.”

“I take it the first ship is complete then, sir?” Acxa asked dryly, pushing herself off the floor where she’d been stretching and rising to her feet.

“Ah – yes,” Lotor said. “It is.”

Keith lowered his sword and shifted to a more casual stance. “When do we begin work on the second one?” he asked curiously.

Zethrid scoffed and sat up. “The sooner the better, I’d say,” she proclaimed. “If it’s as powerful as you say it is –”

“It is,” Lotor interrupted. “Every scan I’ve taken suggests that in terms of sheer speed and power, it is equal to Voltron – perhaps even superior.”

Zethrid nodded with satisfaction and rose with a single, graceful movement. “Good,” she said seriously. “See if we’ll let them make fools of us again.”

* * *

Infiltrating the Ulippa System’s base was laughably easy, the walls and entryways weak and unenforced, susceptible to a few simple bombs. Keith allowed himself a short, gleeful laugh as Ezor flipped artfully through the ruined door to the control room, her throwing knives immediately taking out two of the armed sentries. Throk fired, and Zethrid took advantage of his distraction to charge forward, Keith and Acxa close behind her.

Out of the corner of his eye, Keith noted that Narti had begun to scale the wall, as intended.

_“You!”_ Even amidst the chaos, Throk’s outrage voice rang loud and clear, punctuated with wild shots from his blaster. “Lotor sent _you_ to finish what he started!”

Keith dodged as an errant shot grazed his armor, leaving behind nothing more than a subtle scuff mark. Apparently, the weapons send to the Ulippa System weren’t exactly the latest models. He sliced through a sentry then ducked behind a computer terminal, already slightly smoking from Throk’s wild, enraged shooting.

It was the sentries that they had to worry about, more than Throk. Keith deflected a blast with his blade and dodged forward, cleaving the thing in two. Sentries couldn’t be influenced by emotion, like Throk – they certainly weren’t the latest model, but their shots were harder to dodge.

Keith ducked out of the way as Acxa fired several times in rapid succession, taking down multiple sentries. A quick glance at the ceiling revealed that Narti was almost, _almost_ in position. Just a few more ticks of distraction.

Zethrid snarled from her position, crouched behind a terminal. “Let me finish him off!” she demanded, her low voice rumbling over the sound of blaster fire. Keith rolled his eyes and dodged another shot.

“No! You know the plan!” Acxa yelled from her new position, having taken cover.

Another blast sounded, and Acxa flinched as the shot streaked past her face. Keith winced and glanced at the ceiling. Narti was in place – _finally._

“My life doesn’t matter! All that matters is the Empire!” Throk proclaimed wildly – and Keith wondered if he would stand by that sentiment when the Empire arrested him and took him in for interrogation, as they inevitably would.

Narti moved then, leaping gracefully from her position on the ceiling and landing lightly behind Throk. The commander froze, his eyes widening, then he went limp, pliant under Narti’s control.

They’d won.

* * *

“And seriously, could we have even asked for that to go better?” Ezor chattered excitedly, swinging one arm loosely around Acxa’s shoulders as they walked towards the doors led to the access hallway for the cargo ship’s bridge and its holding docks, where they had stashed the comet ship – the Sincline ship. “I mean, that Throk guy went down _so easy!_ His brain’s gonna be so scrambled when he wakes up!”

_He had a particularly feeble mind._ Narti seemed amused. _Easy to take over, and easy to destroy the memories. This won’t come back to us._

“Good,” Acxa said. “Because the last thing we –”

The hiss of the doors before them was their only warning. Keith froze, startle turning to near-panic as the doors to the access hallway opened of their own accord, revealing five unfamiliar figures, five interlopers that should, by all accounts, not be on the ship.

Five figures, dressed in armor colored to match the lions of Voltron.

Keith swallowed hard and palmed his sword, even as dread clawed at his throat. _Ezor just had to tempt the universe,_ he thought as he steeled himself to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time I ever say I want to write a canon-compliant or canon-adjacent fic, please slap me. Chapters like this one are hard... Ah well. Technically, Keith is about to interact with the Paladins of Voltron for the first time! Isn't that wonderful?


	33. Chapter Thirty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With no other options readily available, the generals engage in one-on-one battle with Team Voltron.

For a moment that could have only been ticks, but seemed to drag forever, nobody moved. Keith’s eyes flickered from paladin to paladin, distantly noting that Acxa had been right – the paladins of Voltron were human, all except for the one in blue, whose facial markings resembled those of the strange narrator from the weblum instruction vid. An _Altean._

Zethrid broke the stillness with a growl, barreling forward and tackling the Altean directly. “Oh, are you _kidding_ me?” Acxa hissed under her breath, though she seized her blaster and followed Zethrid into the holding dock.

Keith shook himself free of his reverie and palmed his sword, readying himself to fight and pouring onto the dock alongside Ezor and Narti. A bolt of laser fire streaked across the room and slipped the edge of his shoulder armor, courtesy of the paladin in red. Keith brought his sword up and turned to face the sniper, just in time to see Ezor materialize seemingly out of nowhere to land on the red paladin’s shoulders.

The whir of energy activation was Keith’s only warning. He swung around, bringing up his sword in defense just in time to block the black paladin’s activated prosthetic arm from cleaving him in two. _Galra tech,_ he realized dimly.  Keith hissed and bore down against the man’s arm, snarling as he stared into the man’s eyes. He recognized his face, he realized. The gladiator – the escaped Champion of the arena. Shirogane.

This was not going to be an easy fight.

Lightning fast, Shirogane, wrenched his prosthetic arm away from Keith’s blade. Keith leapt backwards, dodging as the man’s fist contacted the air where his side had been. Keith whirled around to get behind the man, aiming to strike at his side –

– And his sword caught, clanging against the black-and-white sword that appeared suddenly in Shirogane’s left hand.

Oh, no. This could get bad quickly.

Keith dodged the next blow, his eyes darting around the room to see if he could reasonably call for backup. Acxa was engaged in what seemed to be a distance-based battle with the tiny paladin in green armor, whose weapon crackled with electricity and whose shield didn’t seem to give at all under Acxa’s blaster fire. Ezor had gotten the red paladin to the floor, and was grappling for his gun, while Zethrid’s face was split in a feral grin, even as the blue paladin – the Altean – managed to wrap her energy whip around Zethrid’s gun, neutralizing it. At the back of the dock, Narti was engaged in quickly dodging fire from the yellow paladin, trying to get close.

They were all busy with their own battles, and calling Lotor in from his location on the cruiser was too risky. Keith was just going to have to hold out against the black paladin on his own.

Keith palmed his blaster with his left hand and fired a shot at the black paladin, immediately following up with a sword strike that clashed against the black paladin’s own sword. _You’re not the only one who can dual-wield,_ he thought grimly as he fired rapidly at that weaponized prosthetic.

The black paladin leaped backwards, seeming to recognize the merits of retreat. “Team, what’s your status?” he shouted, seemingly unconcerned with the possibility of alerting a perceived enemy to any weaknesses.

“I’m taking heavy fire!” the green paladin shouted, her voice sounding almost frightfully young. Keith spared a glance to her fight with Acxa, and was unsurprised to find her backed against a wall, ducked behind her shield. “I could use some backup!”

“On it!” To Keith’s surprise, the blue paladin disengaged from her fight with Zethrid, landing a solid kick to Zethrid’s chest before spinning in the opposite action and running past Keith and Shirogane to defend her friend.

It was enough – less than a tick of distraction on Shirogane’s part, but just enough for Keith to land a blow. As Shirogane’s eyes briefly caught on his teammates, undoubtedly following the instinct to keep his team members’ locations in his mind’s eye, Keith struck out with his sword. The blade didn’t quite cut through the flexible underarmor that covered Shirogane’s midsection, but from his cry of pain, the armor certainly hadn’t absorbed the entire blow. Keith leapt backwards, out of the range of both fist and sword.

 _“Shiro!”_ Keith grimaced as several of the paladins cried out in shock. Not used to anyone landing a blow on their leader, then. Keith had to wonder how much combat they saw outside their lions – it wasn’t that they were untrained, but they weren’t nearly as intimidating to fight one-on-one.

Keith leveled his blaster, carefully aiming at Shirogane’s legs. He’d rather shoot to incapacitate, if at all possible. The outcome of this battle, and the actions they took against the paladins, would probably come under consideration whenever Lotor decided it was time to strike an alliance with Voltron.

Before he could take the shot, Shirogane let out another cry of pain as Zethrid wrapped her hands around his waist and heaved him off the ground. “Take that!” she crowed, hurling him through the air at the blue paladin, who went down under his weight with a cry of her own. “I knew these Voltron guys weren’t so hot,” she crowed.

“Yeah?” Keith asked quietly, raising his eyebrows and letting his ears flick back in disapproval. “That the reason you picked a fight with them?”

“Eh, they’re on our ship,” Zethrid said with a shrug. “Besides, don’t we want to keep up appearances?”

“We just attacked the Ulippa System – I’m pretty sure we’re trying to be _undetected,”_ Keith pointed out, shifting his grip on his sword and turning to survey the entire deck.

Confusion, then shock, suddenly burst through Keith’s mind, emanating from Narti. _This shouldn’t be possible!_

Alarmed, Keith whirled around, ready to provide Narti with backup. Her tail wrapped around the yellow paladin’s left wrist, matching the hand that gripped his right wrist; her free hand rested on his forehead. _I can’t control him – not for longer than a tick!_

“Guys!” the yellow paladin cried, his voice high and crackling with fear. “Help! I think this one’s trying to do something to my brain!” He struggled, grappling against Narti’s grip, nearly wrenching a hand free before she tightened her tail around his wrist.

Keith cursed and ran to help Narti. “If I hold him, will you be able to concentrate enough to control him?” he asked in her ear.

 _I think so._ She seemed unsure. _It won’t hurt to try._

Keith had barely laid a hand on the yellow paladin before he was knocked to the ground, a laser blast burning through his armor. He heard Ezor curse loudly, scuffling with her opponent.

“You get your hands off him!” the red paladin yelled shrilly. Keith panted hard, pulling himself painfully to his hands and knees. He turned his head in the direction of the noise, and saw the red paladin with his blaster firmly in both hands, fighting to keep it out of Ezor’s range. “No one messes with my best friend’s brain – whoa!” One of Ezor’s kicks connected with the side of his head, and the red paladin went flying.

Keith winced in pain, his side throbbing as he staggered to his feet. The room swam before him, and he gingerly prodded at his side. The shot had managed to scorch through his armor. How _strong_ was the red paladin’s weapon?

“Team! Retreat!” Shirogane called from across the dock. Keith turned his head towards the black paladin, who had gathered with the blue and green paladins. The red paladin was sprawled beside them, but already he was pulling himself to his feet.

“How am I supposed to –” the yellow paladin began, his panicked words turning into a soundless cry as Narti released him suddenly, stepping backwards.

Zethrid made a move towards the black paladin, only for Acxa to dart forward and block her with one arm. “Are you serious?!” Zethrid demanded furiously as the yellow paladin bolted to catch up with his fellows, who were already running for the door. “This is our chance to take them down!”

“We have what we came for!” Acxa snapped as the paladins retreated. “Stick to the plan! Attacking them wasn’t part of the plan to begin with!”

“Well, what choice did we have?” Zethrid demanded furiously. “They were on our ship! They saw us!”

 _Enough._ Narti’s thoughts were harsh, edged with anger. _Acxa is right. We need to get the teleduv component back to Lotor’s cruiser – we’re not here for Voltron. Engaging with them may have been necessary, but there’s no need to attack further._

Zethrid scowled. “Fine,” she snapped.

Narti turned to Acxa. _We need to get to the Sincline ship. I don’t think Voltron will let us leave with the teleduv component easily. The Sincline ship is the only thing we have that might stand against them._

Acxa exhaled. “You’re right,” she said. “We’ll hail Lotor from the Sincline ship and let him know what happened here.” She turned to the rest of the generals. “Getting the teleduv out of here safely is top priority. We’ll distract Voltron, and rendezvous back at Lotor’s cruiser as soon as it’s safe.”

“I don’t like it,” Ezor protested. “We should stick together!”

 _It’s not an option right now._ Narti turned, beckoning for Acxa to follow. _Unless Lotor gives other directions, this is our best chance to complete this mission._

Keith grimaced as he watched them leave, his side throbbing. “You guys should probably get to Lotor,” he said to Ezor and Zethrid. “Let him know I’ll be in the med-bay.”

Ezor gasped, her eyes widening. “That’s right – you got shot!” she said, her expression flooding with guilt. “Why are you still here? You should have gone as soon as they retreated!”

Keith grimaced. “It’s not that bad – you don’t have to look so guilty,” he grumbled. “It was one hit, and I’m sure the damage is superficial.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have let him get his blaster back,” Ezor said mournfully, her brow creasing.

“Get to the med-bay, short-stuff,” Zethrid agreed, frowning at Keith. “We’ll be on the bridge when you get out.”

On the bridge - hopefully far away from Voltron - ready to finally begin construction on the teleduv. Keith allowed himself a small smile as he dragged himself along the painful trek to the med-bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but imagine how differently the fight scene in s3e6 would have been if Shiro had taken Keith's place and Lotor had five generals instead of four (one of the generals being Keith). This is just how I assume it would have gone. I think this was my favorite fight scene to write? When I started this project, I honestly considered fight scenes to be the weakest point of my writing. It's gotten a lot easier after spending so many months writing a military AU where most of the team bonding happens during sparring.
> 
> Keith's got a great track record when it comes to interacting with humans. We finally get to see Keith getting some contact with other humans! This is what everyone wanted, right?
> 
> Lance is in red armor and Allura's in blue armor because no one originally wore the red armor and Lance didn't spend enough time in Blue to get super attached to her/the blue armor, and with no reason to mourn Shiro, there's no need for Allura to wear pink. I have given this a lot of thought.
> 
> Shiro's bayard is a sword because 1.) canon has been disappointingly unforthcoming with what form his bayard would take, 2.) we've seen the black bayard take the form of a sword before so we know it's an option, and 3.) I, the author, think swords are cool.


	34. Chapter Thirty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor and his generals continue work on the Sincline ships.
> 
> Sometimes, difficult and painful sacrifices must be made.

Keith grimaced as the medical sentry injected a course of healing nanites directly into his wounded side. It wouldn’t take more than a varga to heal – less than that, probably. Already, he could feel the foreign, discomfiting sensation of skin and muscle refreshing and rebuilding, damaged cells dissolving and regenerating to be replaced with healthy, uninjured flesh.

Nearly half-a-varga passed before he decided he didn’t really need to wait for the healing process to be completed before leaving the medbay. Keith rose gingerly and made his way towards the medbay’s storage unit, replacing the upper half of his flight suit with a loose shirt designed to not interfere with the healing process. His side twinged painfully as he made his way towards the bridge, but it wasn’t so bad. _Paladin weapons really pack a punch,_ he thought ruefully, battling the urge to press his fingertips to the wound.

The doors to the bridge hissed open, and Keith crossed the threshold, frowning as he was met with stony silence. “Is everything all right?”

Lotor glanced up, his face twisted unpleasantly. “Hardly,” he spat. “Shouldn’t you still be in the medbay? As I understand, you were shot.”

Keith frowned. “Yeah, but I’m fine,” he said slowly, looking around the room. Narti was nowhere to be seen, and Acxa stood before her normal console, her shoulders hunched, her hair hanging in her face. Ezor and Zethrid wore matching stone expressions, both glaring at Lotor. “What happened?”

Lotor’s face twisted further in a snarl. “What happened,” he snapped, “is that the teleduv component was irreparably destroyed. Clearly, I should have gone to distract Voltron myself –”

“ _Shut up,_ Lotor,” Ezor snarled, taking a protective step towards Acxa, who flinched in response.

Keith stared at Ezor, bewildered. _Did she really just order Lotor to shut up?_ He wondered distantly. “I don’t understand.”

Lotor opened his mouth, but Ezor beat him to the punch. “What happened was that Acxa and Narti followed Lotor’s orders exactly, in both letter and spirit. They did _exactly_ what Lotor said to do, and it’s not _their_ fault that Voltron pulled some unexpected move so that our blast hit the teleduv instead of Voltron!” She glowered at Lotor, folding her arms across her chest.

“Instead of recalibrating their angle of attack so even if Voltron moved it wouldn’t –”

“They were following _your_ orders –”

“I didn’t recruit you to be sycophants who would follow my every order without question!” Lotor shouted.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted us to question your every little order in the field!” Ezor yelled back.

“Enough.”

Acxa’s voice was quiet, just barely audible underneath the yelling, but Ezor fell immediately silent, her expression crumpling. Acxa exhaled quietly. “I appreciate the defense, Ezor, but Lotor’s right. Narti and I should have done something to remove all possibility of hitting the teleduv.”

Ezor frowned. “But –”

“Please, stop,” Acxa said tiredly. “Don’t try to justify my failure. If I’d acted differently, we’d still have the teleduv component.”

Keith frowned, looking between Acxa and Lotor. Acxa’s face, when she finally lifted it, was lined with disappointed exhaustion. Lotor, for his part, had turned away from the group. It was only with careful observation that Keith even noticed that the prince was shaking.

“I will plot a stealth course for Central Command,” Lotor said after a long moment. “This mission has been enough of a fiasco. I wish to ensure that if nothing else, Throk takes the fall for this, as planned. I will not go down for a mission that wasn’t even successful,” he spat.

A low growl escaped Zethrid’s throat, and Lotor’s shoulders tensed further. “Leave, all of you,” he snapped. “I wish to be left alone until I can figure out how to go about building the teleduv now.”

* * *

They didn’t see Lotor for several quintants – not until Lotor returned from his brief stop at Central Command. Keith was in the rec room with the others, having been practically dragged from the training deck upon Zethrid’s declaration that they all needed to relax and stop moping around.

Keith was in the process of losing spectacularly at Tundrip when the doors to the rec room hissed open and Lotor crossed the threshold, his face perfectly impassive. He stopped in front of the group, his hands clasped before him. “Throk has taken the fall for the attack on the Ulippa System, as planned,” he said without preamble. He paused, then sighed, his shoulders slumping. “And I believe I owe you an apology.”

“Sir,” Acxa began quietly.

“No, don’t,” Lotor said. “It was unfair for me to blame you for the loss of the teleduv. Had I been the one piloting, I likely would have made the same call, and suffered the destruction of the teleduv all the same. I apologize for allowing my anger to rule me.”

Acxa stared at Lotor for a long moment, then inclined her head. “Apology accepted, sir,” she said. “At least from me.”

_You don’t need to apologize to me._ Narti tilted her head. _If you’d gone much longer avoiding us, though, I’d have to chastise you for being childish._

Lotor grimaced. “I suppose that would have been your right,” he admitted.

“So, what now?” Keith asked. “Do we start work on the teleduv anyways?”

Lotor sighed. “I have a brief mission that will take me away from the cruiser for a movement or two,” he said. “Please continue to monitor construction of the Sincline ships. When I return, I will attempt to recreate the teleduv.”

Zethrid hummed. “So, when do you leave for this brief mission of yours?” she asked.

“As soon as we’re far enough away from Central Command that I’m certain no one will track my movements,” Lotor said.

Zethrid nodded easily. “In that case sir,” she began, “want us to deal you in for the next hand? _Someone_ needs to knock Narti down a bit.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Lotor’s face. “I can’t promise I’ll be any help in defeating Narti,” he said, “but very well. I will join.”

* * *

Lotor’s brief mission came and went within a movement, and from there the team settled into a routine. Construction of the Sincline ships was paramount, but Keith and the other generals found opportunities to train and take on the occasional quintessence acquisition mission. Quintants blurred into movements, and movements into phoebs. The occasional message came through from Central Command – primarily reports on Voltron’s activities. It seemed that Voltron was coordinating with various rebel groups and freed planets to build some sort of coalition.

It didn’t interfere with their plans, so Keith barely paid the reports of Voltron any mind. The reports that Zarkon’s condition was improving were far more disturbing, as far as he was concerned.

Phoebs had passed, and the second Sincline ship was nearly complete, when the order came. Acxa had entered the testing hangar, her face tense. “My Lord, we just received a message from Central Command,” she said, casting a worried look at Lotor. “Emperor Zarkon requires your presence immediately.”

Keith grimaced. That couldn’t possibly be good.

Lotor glanced at Acxa, seemingly unconcerned. “Very well. I’ll prepare a ship,” he said, turning his gaze back to the Sincline ship.

Ezor frowned. “Do you think he’s onto us?” she asked.

“We’d already be dead if he knew,” Keith couldn’t help but add dryly.

Lotor snorted. “No. My father is simply ready to return to the throne,” he said dismissively. He shrugged, rolling his shoulders as he turned. “He can have it. Our plans have not changed. Narti, come with me.”

Narti pressed her fist to her chest in salute.

“The rest of you, continue to oversee construction,” Lotor said, offering a wry grin. “I will return shortly.”

Keith watched as Narti followed Lotor from the hangar, his brow furrowing slightly. It was true that becoming Emperor Pro Tem hadn’t done much to increase Lotor’s power, but it _had_ allowed them to accelerate their plans. “I don’t like Zarkon being back in power,” he remarked.

“Well, yeah, it’s not ideal,” Zethrid said. “Still, it’s not like he’s gonna be in power for too much longer. Once Lotor figures out the teleduv situation and we’ve got all the ships complete, you _know_ we’ll be able to take him down!”

“Especially if we can get this Voltron coalition on our side,” Acxa said. “That does seem to factor into Lotor’s ultimate plan.”

Keith grimaced. “I guess,” he muttered. Privately, he was less than thrilled at the idea of teaming up with Voltron – he was pretty sure that they’d be seen as more of a threat than a potential ally. But they wouldn’t go in unprepared – Lotor would have a plan. He always did.

A few quintants passed, and Acxa had declared the Sincline ship tentatively complete, before Lotor and Narti returned. Keith was in the middle of reviewing details from the final build sequence when the hangar doors hissed open and Lotor strode into the space, Narti trailing behind him with Kova perched on her shoulder.

“How’d it go?” Ezor asked, tilting her head slightly. “Are you fired?”

Lotor snorted, an amused smile splitting his face. “I’m afraid I was relieved of my command, yes,” he said easily.

Acxa cleared her throat. “The second ship is complete and ready for testing,” she said, matter-of-fact. “The sentries are just making some final adjustments.”

Lotor’s smile widened. “Excellent,” he said. “No snags in production? The schematics are all turning out the way we predicted?”

“So far. We’ll confirm during testing,” Acxa said.

Lotor nodded. “And what of the ore for the third ship? How much do we have left?” he asked.

“Sixty-percent of the comet’s material has been used in the production of the first two ships,” Acxa said, glancing at her screen to confirm. “We will have more than enough for the creation of the third.”

Lotor’s shoulders relaxed minutely. “Well done, Acxa,” he said. “Well done all of you. Truly, we are progressing faster than I had ever hoped possible.”

“Should we begin testing now?” Keith asked.

Lotor hummed noncommittally. “We should,” he agreed. “Have the sentries run some automated tests. “I would like to wash the stink of Central Command from my skin before we run any detailed tests. Shall we reconvene in the hangar in, say, two vargas?”

Two vargas sounded like an almost decadent break, after spending the past few quintants working almost nonstop on the ship. Keith saluted Lotor, mirroring the motions of his fellow generals.

A shower sounded like a good idea. Keith exited the hangar and strode towards his quarters, determined to make the most of his break.

* * *

They had scarcely all reconvened before the Sincline ship, ready to run detailed tests, when something knocked into the cruiser, exploding against its side and rocking the ship slightly askew. Keith let out a cry of surprise, his claws unsheathing instinctively. Another blast hit the cruiser, then another.

As the ship rocked and alarms began to blare, Keith’s first thought was not one of alarm, but one of acceptance. Of course. Things had been going too smoothly – of course something would go wrong.

Keith braced himself as the ship rocked again, reaching instinctively for his sword – for all the good that it would do. His eyes lit on the Sincline ship. They knew. Somehow, the Empire had found out what they were doing.

“What’s happening?” Lotor demanded, his voice tight with alarm, as Zethrid sprinted for the diagnostic screens.

“A Galra fleet is attacking us!” Zethrid called back, her words edged with panic.

“Return fire!” Lotor ordered. Keith chanced a glance at his commanding officer; Lotor’s face had paled to the point of appearing grey, his eyes wild.

“Wait – there’s another fleet. And another one!” Zethrid’s voice shook. “We can’t hold them all off!”

Another blast hit the cruiser, this one from a different side, and Keith stumbled to keep his footing.

Lotor’s eyes darted about the room. “Prepare the Sincline ships for takeoff,” he said after a few ticks and several more blasts. “We’ll load the rest of the comet into the first ship.” The ship rumbled and shook, metal groaning as it warped under the force of the blasts. “We’re leaving!”

Keith swallowed hard, his fur rising instinctively. Things were bad enough for them to abandon the cruiser?

Another blast rocked the ship, and okay, Keith could concede the point.

Behind them, the sentries – having apparently registered Lotor’s words and taking the orders to heart – were scurrying to carry the remains of the comet to Lotor’s fighter.

“Divert all power to defenses,” Lotor ordered, glowering at a nearby sentry. “Hold the attack off until we’re away! Then scuttle –”

A particularly powerful blast rocked the cruiser, the metal of the hangar visibly warping. Keith yelped, his voice lost among many as the other generals cried out with alarm.

“Okay, but how did they find us?” Acxa demanded. “No one should have known our location!”

“We must have been tracked,” Zethrid growled murderously.

Tracked – it made sense. But Lotor was always meticulous about finding and destroying trackers. Keith shook his head. Could Lotor have missed something, somehow? It didn’t seem like him.

Lost in his thoughts, Keith almost missed the way Lotor stilled, his eyes going wide in realization. Lotor turned, angling himself towards Narti. Ready to ask for her input, maybe – except something was wrong. There was too much hostility in Lotor’s eyes, and Narti –

Narti stood motionless, her thoughts eerily blank. A chill rushed through Keith as he realized that Narti hadn’t made any attempts to communicate since returning from Central Command.

Lotor’s eyes narrowed, and still Narti stood, perfectly still.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Dimly, Keith registered Lotor reaching for his sword, unsheathing it in one fluid motion. Through a haze, he watched as Lotor launched himself towards Narti, drawing back his sword and plunging it forward in one fluid motion, then wrenching it free and allowing her body to fall to the floor.

Static roared in Keith’s ears as he stared dumbly at the collapsed body on the ground. She wasn’t moving. Greenish blood trickled from the wound, and _she wasn’t moving._ Dimly, Keith registered the shouts of alarm from the other generals; he stared, oddly detached. Kova was unharmed, he realized distantly as the creature settled beside Narti – Narti’s body, it was a body and she wasn’t moving and there was _so much blood –_

“Let’s go,” Lotor ordered, his face eerily blank as he turned away from Narti’s body.

“Lotor,” Ezor whispered, her voice catching. “What –”

“Not now,” Lotor snapped.

“You just –” Keith began, his voice cracking as he stared at Narti’s corpse.

_“We need to go,”_ Lotor snarled. _“Now._ Before the cruiser is destroyed.”

Distantly, Keith registered that he was moving, following the others. Lotor directed Ezor and Acxa towards the second Sincline ship, and motioned for Keith and Zethrid to take one section of the first ship while Lotor himself took the other. Keith followed in a haze, allowing himself to collapse into the pilot seat while Zethrid dropped to the floor, her expression unreadable.

Escape. They needed to escape before they were destroyed along with the cruiser.

Narti’s body would be destroyed along with the cruiser. Even through his haze, Keith felt something crack in his chest, something painful. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, but he would _not_ let them fall.

The console blinked, signaling an incoming transmission. On instinct, Keith reached for it, accepting the communication.

_“Attention, citizens of the Galra Empire.”_ The blood in Keith’s veins seemed to turn to ice as a low, menacing voice thundered through the enclosed cockpit. That voice could only belong to one person. _“From this day forward, my son Lotor is to be regarded as a fugitive criminal of the Empire. All citizens are authorized to use deadly force to stop him, or any of his soldiers.”_ That – that wasn’t good. Keith knew they’d been found out, but deadly force? Zarkon had so little regard for his own son?  

_“I repeat, Prince Lotor is an enemy of the state. Engage with extreme prejudice. Kill on sight.”_

Keith sucked in a deep breath, the pain in his chest cracking further. Beside him, Zethrid gasped, her eyes widening with uncharacteristic terror.

How, in the span of only a few vargas, had things gone so wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, listen, in my defense? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Idk I don't think I hid the fact that I was going to kill Narti. It pained me more than I thought it would. I'm so very sorry.
> 
> ....If you kill me, you'll never get to see Keith and Lotor kiss in this continuity. Please don't kill me.
> 
> I'd say it gets better from here, and I wouldn't be lying per se, but I also wouldn't be telling the truth. It's going to be a roller coaster (with some less-awful interludes!) for the next little bit. Um. Yeah. Feel free to tell me how much I suck for doing this.


	35. Chapter Thirty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor attempts to prove his usefulness via the trans-reality gate.
> 
> Keith makes an unpopular decision. It doesn't end well.

Keith flew as if on auto-pilot, mindlessly following Lotor’s lead in guiding the ship into deep space. He stared blankly through the viewscreen, vaguely noticing the star patterns before him. Far more pressing was the image of Narti’s body, burned into his eyelids. Deathly still, not even a finger twitching, while greenish blood pooled on the floor beneath her, slowly seeping outwards. Her hood had fallen away from her face, leaving her entire head strangely exposed.

Despite her lack of facial features, she had been remarkably expressive in life. How strange, that in death her face finally took on the blank affect he’d originally expected her to have.

_“Ezor, Acxa.”_ Lotor’s voice was clipped, cold and expressionless. _“Set a course for the coordinates I am sending you.”_

_“Where are we going?”_ Keith winced as Ezor’s voice echoed through the cockpit. Normally bubbly and cheerful, Ezor’s voice was uncharacteristically dull and subdued.

He couldn’t exactly blame her.

_“Just do as I say,”_ Lotor snapped. Keith flinched, and glanced down at his navigation screen. The course he, Zethrid, and Lotor were set to follow ended at the same coordinates as the course sent to Ezor and Acxa – at least they weren’t splitting up.

_Unmoving on the ground, Kova settled next to her, looking between the body and Lotor himself, like a doll thrown to the side by a petulant child –_

A large hand rested gently on his shoulder, and Keith flinched despite himself. “Focus on flying,” Zethrid said quietly. “There’s nothing we can do for her now.”

“I know,” Keith snapped, his voice cracking. He slumped forward, then tapped the navigation screen to put the ship on autopilot. “I just –” He gulped. “He had a good reason,” Keith began. “For – for Narti. He’ll tell us when it’s safe.”

Zethrid’s face twisted slightly, her eyes flashing. “Yeah, maybe,” she said. “This is Lotor, after all. Always has a plan. Always has his reasons.”

From her flat affect, Keith wasn’t sure she believed herself.

They flew largely in silence for well over a quintant. Keith was sure to perform perfunctory checks every few vargas on Acxa and Ezor, to confirm that they were on the correct course. They always were.

He stopped trying to check on Lotor after the first two attempts, when Lotor refused to answer his hails.

* * *

The end destination of the coordinates was unexpected. Keith had anticipated some sort of outpost – one of the planets they had allied with, perhaps, or an abandoned galra base, long since lost to the memory of the bloated and unwieldy empire.

He had _not_ expected to end up in a field of dust and rock chunks, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

“Sir,” Zethrid began as she glanced over Keith’s shoulders at the display panel, “we’re approaching the coordinates, but our scanners don’t detect anything.”

For the first time in well over a quintant, Lotor had accepted their hail. Now, his features twisted in a scowl, prominently displayed on the communications screen. _“They’re not supposed to,”_ he said coolly.

Keith frowned. “Keep on course, sir?” he asked tentatively.

_“Obviously.”_ To Keith’s surprise, Lotor left the channel open, though he did switch to an audio-only feed, his visage blinking out of sight.

“Well, I guess we keep flying through all this dust,” Zethrid muttered.

It was a few doboshes later that Keith spotted the large mass beyond the dust storm. He narrowed his eyes, taking in the formation even as the rocks thinned and the dust cleared. He sucked in a breath as the mass came into clearer focus – a dead planet, void of all life and drained of quintessence, dead matter floating in space until a weblum came to clear it away.

_“Lotor, what is this?”_ Ezor asked, exhaustion mixed with curiosity entwining every word.

Lotor’s response came, colored with exhaustion and something that almost sounded like grief. _“The ruins of planet Daibaazal,”_ he said quietly.

The ruins of their shared homeworld.

Keith sucked in a breath as they continued on their path towards the planet. The closer they came, the more Keith’s attention was drawn to a strangely bright, shining spot at the center. It glowed with pale blue light, standing out against the quintessence-drained greys and browns of the surrounding planet. Keith frowned – in color, it resembled Lotor’s preferred form of quintessence, the rare type from Zarkon’s favored facility that used more refined methods than other, more generalized facilities.

_“What is that?”_ Ezor breathed as they approached the structure – and it clearly was a structure, artificial and built into the planet itself. Keith was glad she’d asked – whatever this was, Lotor hadn’t mentioned it in any of the plans he’d shared.

_“Zarkon believed that Alfor’s plan to blow up Daibaazal and destroy the rift between realities actually worked,”_ Lotor said tersely, his voice edged with something dark. _“No one comprehended that the experiments of my mother Honerva could never be undone.”_

His mother – the Altean. Keith frowned. That would explain why this thing looked distinctly non-galran.

_“I had a secret team construct this inter-reality gate on the rift where her work began,”_ Lotor continued.

Oh – that explained Lotor’s secret mission he’d taken a few phoebs back. Clearly it was to summon this team. But why had he kept that from them? Keith shook his head and turned his attention back to Lotor. He could worry about that later.

_“Just as Voltron was able to, I will pilot us through the rift, and we will harvest the unlimited quintessence that exists in the layer between realities,”_ Lotor proclaimed, his voice hardening into something confident, unyielding.

Acxa inhaled sharply. _“I never doubted you, Lotor,”_ she breathed, the first words Keith had heard from her since –

No good dwelling on Narti now.

On his viewscreen, Ezor’s face bore a skeptical expression. _“So, we can just fly right through this thing into another reality?”_ she demanded.

A ghost of a smile crossed Lotor’s face. _“I’ve not yet had a chance to test the gate,”_ he admitted. _“My plans have been accelerated by our recent…”_ his expression twitched, the smile fading for a fraction of a tick before he plastered it back into place, _“turn of events. But if my calculations are correct, by infusing our ships with concentrated quintessence, we should be able to pierce the barrier between realities.”_

Keith frowned – they’d left most of their quintessence, including concentrated quintessence, back on the cruiser when they’d made their escape. He glanced down at the status panel, his eyes widening as the readouts changed and fluctuated. While he spoke, Lotor had begun draining their limited stores of concentrated quintessence into the ship!

Zethrid echoed his doubts. “Sir, this is all the concentrated quintessence we have left!” she exclaimed as Lotor maneuvered the ship towards the gate.

_“And I will use it to reap an untold amount more,”_ Lotor said coldly.

Keith glanced back at Zethrid, alarmed. Zethrid shrugged helplessly, her eyes wide. “He’s the one who knows all about this stuff, right?” she pointed out.

Keith swallowed hard and turned his attention to the gate, which glowed as they approached. Any tick now, they’d pass through. Any tick, and they should be entering this coveted quintessence field between realities. The screens crackled as they approached, white light nearly blinding Keith’s vision, and he fought the urge to close his eyes.

The light flared, a brief flash of white washing through the ship, and then faded. Keith blinked rapidly as he stared at their surroundings – the other side of the gate, surrounded by dust and ash and rocks, the other side of Daibaazal hanging listlessly behind them.

Zethrid cleared her throat after a few ticks. “Did it work?” she asked skeptically.

Lotor was quiet for a long moment. _“It_ should _have,”_ he said uneasily. _“But this – this isn’t the quintessence field.”_ His breath hitched over the comms. _“By all means – all my calculations – and my scientists agreed that this was the most viable solution –”_

“Lotor?” Keith asked quietly.

_“This should have_ worked,” Lotor hissed. _“Why didn’t it work?”_ He paused for a long moment. _“We need to regroup. My – Zarkon will surely not look for us here. We can regroup and determine the cause of the failure. This can be fixed – I know it can.”_

“How?” Keith found himself asking. “We don’t have any more quintessence –”

_“I can fix this,”_ Lotor all but snarled. _“Regroup with Ezor and Acxa. I’ll – I’ll redo my calculations, and we’ll figure out a work-around.”_

Keith exchanged a glance with Zethrid, then turned back to the viewscreen and nodded. “Understood, sir,” he said quietly.

* * *

Per Lotor’s advice, they regrouped on a small asteroid with enough of a gravitational force to keep them from drifting away. Keith stuck with Zethrid, who immediately made her way to Ezor and Acxa, drawing them both tightly into her arms. Keith hung back at that, torn between unwillingness to get between their reunion and unwillingness to seek out Lotor when he was so clearly rattled.

“I can’t believe it,” Ezor said when Zethrid finally put them down. “Narti – he just – he didn’t even give her any warning, and then –”

“Ezor,” Acxa began softly.

“No!” Ezor said, shaking her head furiously. “No. This isn’t right. First Lotor kept this gate a secret from us, and then apparently he has to kill Narti for some reason?” She let out a hollow laugh. “And this gate didn’t even _work._ All Lotor’s plans failed.”

Something crumpled in Keith’s chest. “This is just a setback,” he said.

“Oh yeah? Is _Narti_ just a setback?” Ezor spat bitterly.

_Lifeless on the floor of the ship, her armor stained, powerful tail lying limp like so much dead weight – dead weight – dead –_

“He’s gonna turn on us as soon as it’s in his best interests. We have to strike first,” Zethrid said darkly. “You know I’m right,” she added as Keith opened his mouth. “He’s always been cagey about his ultimate plans, and he killed _Narti._ How long was she loyal to him? If he can throw her away like trash, what will he do to us?”

“You’re being hasty,” Keith argued, swallowing hard. “We should ask him about Narti. He has to have had a reason!”

Ezor snorted. “You want to risk him turning around and killing you for asking the wrong question?” she demanded. “Lotor’s been increasingly unhinged, ever since our first encounter with Voltron. Things didn’t go his way, and now he’s panicking. And apparently, none of us are safe! Not if – Narti was the first of us, and all,” she said, her voice catching. “I’m not going to trust him if it’ll get me killed. If we turn him over to Galra headquarters now, maybe they’ll show us mercy!”

“We gotta take him down,” Zethrid agreed. “It’s our only chance.”

Keith stared at them in horror. “You think they’ll show us mercy?” he demanded furiously. “Maybe a merciful death, at best! Have you forgotten that we’re traitors, and Lotor’s the only thing keeping us safe?” The blood warmed in his veins as he glared at his friends. “Even if the gate’s not an option, Lotor will have a backup plan to keep us safe. We just need to _talk_ to him.”

“Any backup plan he has will probably get us killed,” Ezor hissed.

Keith opened his mouth to reply, but refrained from speaking when Acxa shot him a warning glare. He instead settled for glowering at Ezor as Acxa broke from the group and walked towards Lotor, her shoulders slumped.

So defeated was her body language that Keith didn’t react until he heard the whir of her blaster charging. “For Narti,” Acxa hissed, firing just as Lotor whirled around to face her, his eyes wide with terror.

Keith’s breath caught in his throat as Lotor crumpled under the blast. “Acxa,” he croaked, staring at her.

“Did you kill him?” Zethrid demanded, rushing to Acxa’s side.

Acxa shook her head, an unreadable expression settling on her face. “He’s just stunned,” she said. “Now help me secure him – let’s make this quick.”

The blood in Keith’s veins felt like ice, slowing his thoughts and movements. “Why?” he managed to croak. “Acxa…”

Acxa turned towards him, her brow furrowed. “It had to be done,” she said quietly. “We’re all in danger as long as we follow him. Ezor’s right – if we turn him over, we may be granted some degree of mercy.”

Keith took a breath, then another, another. Logically, he knew that his suit recycled oxygen to optimal levels, and he was not being deprived of air – but he couldn’t stop his panicked breaths. “You can’t turn him over,” he whispered. “You _can’t._ Not after all he’s done for us – they’ll execute him terribly, you can’t –”

“Keith!” Zethrid yelped, grabbing him by the arms. “Keith, calm down!”

His blood warmed as quickly as it had cooled in his veins. Keith screamed, wrenching out of her grip and reaching for his sword. _“No!”_ he shouted. “You want to throw him away after everything he’s done for us? At least let him wake up so we can get _answers!”_

“Whoa – Keith,” Zethrid said, raising her hands placatingly. “Calm down.”

“He’s not gonna calm down.” Keith had barely registered Ezor’s words before something struck him from behind, knocking him prone. His sword flew from his grip as he hit the ground hard, grunting as his face dug into the rocky ground, gashing his skin. Clever hands wrenched his wrists behind his back, fastening cuffs around them. “Thanks for distracting him, Zethrid.”

“Definitely what I was trying to do,” Zethrid said, sounding unnerved. “So, uh, what now?”

Keith snarled as Acxa crossed the scant meters between them. “Load them both into the empty cockpit,” she said. “Keith,” she added, crouching down and reaching for his chin. Keith jerked away from her grasp, glaring furiously at her. “We’ll uncuff you when you come to your senses. Turning Lotor over is our only option.”

“No, it’s not,” Keith snapped. “It’s just the easy one.”

Acxa sighed, then rose to her feet. “You’ll thank us when you’ve had time to think,” she said. Keith glared at her as she crossed the asteroid and dragged Lotor over her shoulder, buckling slightly under his weight. “Zethrid, get Keith. Stash him somewhere out of sight, so we can turn over Lotor without anyone seeing him.”

“Got it.” Keith growled as Zethrid hauled him unceremoniously over her shoulder. She deposited him behind the pilot’s chair in Lotor’s cockpit; Acxa followed shortly after, dumping Lotor into the seat.

Acxa paused before she left, and crouched next to Keith. “I know you care for Lotor,” she said.

“And I thought you did too,” Keith spat.

Acxa’s lips turned up in a humorless smile. “Not the way you do,” she said. “I know you want to believe the best from him. But if he can’t protect us – if he’s willing to kill us to save himself – this is for the best,” she said quietly. “Believe me, I never wanted this. But it’s our only option.”

Keith snarled at her back as she turned and left, sealing him in the cockpit with Lotor. Keith tugged at his restraints to no avail, his hands firmly cuffed behind him.

Only a few doboshes later, Keith felt the ship lurch as whoever was piloting – probably Zethrid – began the takeoff sequence.

“Lotor,” Keith hissed, twisting around and craning his neck. Lotor was slumped in the pilot’s seat, his wrists cuffed behind him. “Lotor!”

There was no response. Keith exhaled and drew his knees to his chest, allowing his head to drop as he curled in on himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY HERE WE GO.
> 
> It is with great delight that I can inform you that sometime within the next several chapters, the slow burn will stop being so slow. FINALLY.
> 
> Also, unlike the show writers (who, granted, are juggling a lot of sideplots, unlike me) I don't plan to leave Narti's death quite so unresolved. I'd like to think that her death shows up as a significant theme in this chapter. We're not done talking about it, I promise.
> 
> Stressed Lotor is not very forthcoming.


	36. Chapter Thirty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor makes his escape and discusses trust, friendship, and Narti with Keith. For now, survival is the priority.

After several doboshes of testing his restraints, Keith was forced to admit that the cuffs pinning his wrists behind his back were solid. In the cramped space behind the pilot’s seat, he couldn’t manage to get his hands underneath him to pull in front of his body, and the tight quarters kept him from maneuvering out of the space to get to Lotor.

He was stuck.

Another several doboshes passed, before a sudden, shocked gasp drew Keith’s attention. The seat in front of him creaked as Lotor shifted, apparently having regained consciousness. Keith held his breath, unsure of what to do. He should say something – maybe together, he and Lotor could come up with some sort of plan.

“What are you doing?” Lotor asked before Keith could speak, his voice wavering slightly. “Where are you taking me?”

To Keith’s surprise, the comms crackled in response. _“I’m sorry, sir. Nothing personal.”_ Zethrid’s voice was strangely quiet, even as it reverberated through the cockpit. _“This is our only way out.”_

Lotor exhaled loudly. Keith shifted, pulling again at his cuffs – nothing. And if Zethrid was listening in on the comms – so much for trying to come up with a plan with Lotor.

“You plan to give me up. I understand, Zethrid,” Lotor said quietly. The pilot’s seat creaked again as Lotor shifted. “You do what you must. And _I’ll do what I must.”_

Something _crunched,_ loud crackling and ripping sounds coming from the pilot’s seat, accompanied by a loud, animalistic groan of pain. Keith flinched at the gruesome noises, his heart pounding wildly. He twisted, craning his neck in a desperate, futile attempt to see what was happening.

Lotor groaned again, and the dashboard began beeping wildly. _“What the –”_ Zethrid exclaimed, her confusion cut short as the comms from the other cockpit fizzled out and died to the sound of  the telltale hiss of the overhead door opening.

The ship jerked forward, accelerating unexpectedly. Keith bit back a cry as he fell forward, his forehead colliding against the wall of the cruiser. “Lotor,” he gasped, struggling to get to his feet – or at least his knees – with his hands bound and useless.

The silence that washed through the cockpit was unwelcome, deadly cold and fraught with tension. Keith heard Lotor rise, his footsteps echoing as he crossed the scant distance to the back of the cockpit. Familiar shin-guards came into view, and Keith craned his neck up to meet Lotor’s blank, dispassionate gaze.

“Keith,” Lotor said after a long moment, his voice flat.

Keith swallowed hard as he met Lotor’s eyes. “Mind letting me out of these cuffs?” he asked warily, flexing his fingers behind his back.

Lotor was silent for a long moment. “What are you _doing_ here, Keith?” he asked, clenching his fists. “Shouldn’t you be with the others?”

Keith gulped at his commanding officer’s icy tone. “Apparently not, since they threw me in here with you,” he said, uncomfortably aware of the tremor in his voice.

Lotor exhaled and smoothed a hand over his face. “I suppose I did choose you all in part for your cleverness,” he said dryly. “A bold move, to leave one of you in the same cockpit as me – harder for me to get rid of you. If I eject you, I eject myself.”

Keith frowned. “Lotor –”

“And I can assume that they chose you to feign continued loyalty because I would be most likely to believe you, due to my own personal weaknesses,” Lotor continued, dropping his hand to glare down at Keith. “I almost wish I could be so easily fooled.”

Keith’s jaw dropped. The blood in his veins seemed to ice over as he stared at Lotor, aghast. “You think I’m here as, what, some sort of _spy_ for the others?” he demanded furiously.

“Aren’t you?” Lotor asked, raising an eyebrow. He was shaking, Keith noticed distantly, tremors wracking his body, his boots clacking ever so minutely against the cockpit floor. “You expect me to believe that you wouldn’t turn on me with the others?”

Keith stared at Lotor. “I’m here because I wanted to at least hear you out,” he snapped. “Turning you over to the Empire without all the facts would be _stupid._ It’s not my fault everyone else panicked.”

Lotor went deathly still. “All the facts?” he said quietly. He bent and seized Keith by the chest-plate of his armor, hauling him to his feet. Keith’s breath hitched as Lotor pinned him to the wall of the cockpit, his face twisted in a snarl. Maybe it would have been terrifying, if not for the pain that sparked in Lotor’s eyes.

“The _facts_ say that I killed one of my own, seemingly with no cause,” Lotor hissed. “Then I suffered a devastating failure. Clearly, the others looked at these facts and concluded that I am a danger to them. What _possessed_ you to disagree with them? Now you’re here with me, alone, bound, and with no backup. The _facts_ suggest that I could kill you easily if I wanted. Why would you put yourself in this situation?”

Keith forced himself to meet Lotor’s gaze steadily, even as his heart pounded wildly. _“Are_ you going to kill me?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice calm.

Lotor’s grip released, and he took a step back. “No,” he said, his voice wavering, “but that’s not the point.”

Keith grimaced. “Look, can you just get me out of these cuffs?” he asked, pointedly clacking his wrists together.

“I shouldn’t,” Lotor muttered, even as he gestured for Keith to turn around. “You’re either a spy for the others or an idiot with no self-preservation instincts, and I shouldn’t let either possibility loose on my ship.”

The cuffs released and Keith pulled his arms to his chest, hissing with relief as he massaged where his wrists had begun to go numb. “I’m not a spy, and I have self-preservation instincts,” he protested, glaring at Lotor.

Lotor snorted. “I would love to trust you, but you see where trust has placed me recently,” he said, turning away and settling down in the pilot’s seat. “At least I can assume you aren’t carrying a tracker. If you are still working with the others, you’ll have to use the main communicator to contact them.”

Keith exhaled loudly, frustrated. “What do I have to do to prove that I’m not a spy?” he asked.

“You can’t,” Lotor said tersely.

Keith scowled. “Fine,” he snapped. “You don’t trust me anymore, and apparently I’m an idiot for still trusting you.”

“That’s about the gist of it,” Lotor muttered, tapping out coordinates on the dashboard.

“Fine,” Keith said. “I don’t know why you’d complain that you still have _someone_ on your side,” he added almost as an afterthought.

Lotor glanced back at Keith, his eyes narrowed. “Unfortunately for me, the friendship and fondness I developed for all of you was genuine,” he said. “I hate to see you put yourself in a precarious position, rather than acting cautiously.”

Keith snorted. “To the point where you’d be happier if I’d betrayed you?” he asked.

Lotor didn’t respond. Keith let the silence linger for a long moment before opening his mouth to ask. “Why did you kill her?” he asked, unable to keep the tremor from his voice as the image of Narti’s lifeless body flashed before his eyes.

Lotor stared emotionlessly out the viewscreen. “Because I keep my promises,” he said quietly.

Keith remained silent, waiting for elaboration. A long moment passed, then Lotor sighed, his shoulders slumping. “You know that Narti used to be a subject for the druids,” he said, his voice heavy. “And you know that I freed her. But I don’t think – I don’t think you _can_ understand how horrific her life was under their control.” His voice shook slightly. “When I first met her, she didn’t even have a _name –_ she wasn’t even considered a person, legally. And she was so –” His voice broke.

Keith waited quietly for Lotor to regain his composure. “She was seen as a high-priority subject, for the experiments they were performing with her. And she was also considered a high-risk subject, due to multiple attempts to end her own suffering at any cost.” His voice quivered. “And when I got her out, she made me swear to _never_ allow the druids any influence over her again, even if that meant ending her life. I made that promise,” Lotor said, his voice cracking, “and I kept it.”

Narti had been under druidic influence? But – how would Lotor have even known? Keith braced himself against the cockpit wall as numbness spread throughout his body, his legs threatening to collapse. “The druids?” he asked, hearing his own words in a haze.

“It’s the only explanation,” Lotor said quietly. “I should never have taken her to Central Command.” He swallowed audibly as he bowed his head. “We destroyed all trackers on the ship. The only way the Empire could have found us so suddenly is if they had some sort of inside information – and it would be all too easy for the druids to gain influence over a former subject at close range.” Lotor bowed his head further. “I was a fool to think her untouchable. I was a fool to think that freeing her and giving her rank would keep the druids from using her against me.”

Keith allowed his legs to give out, sliding to sit on the floor. “But…” It made a terrible sort of sense, Keith had to admit. “Why didn’t you just tell us that from the start?” he asked weakly. “The others – they thought you just snapped. But you didn’t – you had a reason, you even had her permission!”

A ragged noise tore from Lotor’s throat, almost akin to a sob. “Because I _failed_ her,” he said, his voice choked. “Perhaps if I’d had time – I could have sealed her in a cell and found a way to purge the druidic influence from her. But there was no time. I look back, and I see every action I could have taken that would allow her to still be alive.” Lotor took a ragged breath. “But I didn’t think of any alternatives, in the moment. And the only consolation to be had is that her body will have been destroyed with the cruiser, beyond the reach of the druids forever.”

Keith directed his gaze to his knees. “Lotor,” he began cautiously. “We should find a way to let the others know.”

Lotor went rigid. “We’re not contacting –”

“I’m not saying we contact them directly,” Keith interrupted, acutely aware that his suggestion didn’t do him any favors in proving that he hadn’t been left with Lotor as a spy. “But there’s got to be a way to send a message that can’t be tracked, explaining why you killed her. They deserve to know they haven’t spent decaphoebs following a monster.”

“High words of praise, directed at someone who couldn’t even protect a loyal friend,” Lotor murmured.

He was pretty sure his legs could support him. Shakily, Keith rose to his feet and made his way next to the pilot’s seat. Careful to project his movements, Keith laid a hand on Lotor’s shoulder; Lotor flinched at the contact and glanced up at Keith, his eyes wide and glimmering, misted over with the distinct sheen of unshed tears.

“Lotor,” Keith whispered, gently squeezing, his fingers tightening against rigid armor. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Lotor took an unsteady breath. “It was,” he murmured quietly, “but I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.”

Keith opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted as a sudden blast rattled through the ship. “What was that?” he demanded, taking a step backwards.

Lotor looked down at the screen displaying their surroundings and cursed. “We’ve been spotted,” he said tersely. “We can discuss this further once we’ve evaded my father’s fleet,” he said, frantically typing in coordinates. “This is going to be terribly unpleasant,” he muttered. “Brace yourself, Keith,” he added, shooting forward and dodging the next blast.

“I’m guessing you have a plan?” Keith asked, adopting a wide stance to decrease his chances of being knocked to the floor.

“Not a pleasant or comfortable one,” Lotor said grimly, whirling the ship around to fire on some of the fighters before dodging past them and shooting forward.

Keith grimaced, his claws unsheathing. “I can get to the other cockpit and provide support,” he offered, bracing himself as Lotor rolled out of the way of another blast.

“There’s no time,” Lotor argued through gritted teeth. “Stay down, and hope we survive.”

Keith grit his teeth. He knew Lotor was right – they couldn’t afford to pause long enough to get him in the second cockpit, much less modify battle strategy to accommodate multiple pilots of the same ship.

Lotor turned again to fire on the fighters, then shot forward. The console began to beep warningly, and Lotor let out a humorless chuckle. “Sorry, Keith – this is going to be unpleasant,” he warned.

“Yeah, you mentioned,” Keith snapped, his hands twitching. He didn’t like being helpless like this. “After we survive this, I’m getting in the other cockpit so I can help next time,” he added.

Lotor snorted. “We’ll discuss it,” he said dismissively. “Now, let me concentrate.”

Keith scowled, but folded his arms across his chest and willed himself to remain silent. Lotor locked onto a set of coordinates and shot forward, speeding towards his chosen location.

Keith’s breath caught into his throat as they shot towards the coordinates and a large mass came into view. “Lotor?” he choked out.

“Nah-veer five is an unstable star,” Lotor said grimly. “The Sincline ships are fast and hardy – we’ll be able to survive this. My father’s ships,” he added, his voice taking on a dark tone, “are not nearly so well constructed.”

Keith barely dared breathe as they barreled towards the star. “Don’t get us killed,” he said.

He could see just enough of Lotor’s head to see his ears flatten backwards. “We won’t be the ones dying here today,” Lotor growled as he shot towards the pulsing, seething sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh well gee I guess that solves everything with Narti, right guys? :) Fun fact, when I was plotting everyone's Tragic Anime Backstory for this, I decided to rank them in terms of tragic-ness, and Narti freaking beat out Lotor. Someday, I will probably write down the backstories for the generals to share with you all. Eventually. No promises, but I should really do that.
> 
> Lotor's standard paranoia setting on a scale of 1-10 is about a 15, so we can hardly blame him for reacting so badly to Keith sticking around, right? This is very clearly a trap and you cannot fool him into thinking anything else.


	37. Chapter Thirty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After escaping Zarkon's fleet by flying into an unstable star, Keith and Lotor are forced to consider risky options that are as likely to kill them as help them to survive.
> 
> A necessary, if untimely, decision is made.

The heat was almost unbearable.

Keith clutched the back of the pilot’s seat with both hands, his legs shaking as he forced them to bear his weight even as the pressure from the sun’s gravity amplified, the pressure forcing him to bow into himself. Sweat pooled trickled uncomfortable down his face, only to evaporate only ticks later, caught in a cycle of heat and the desperate, futile attempt to maintain a stable body temperature. Even the temperature regulation of his flight suit and armor couldn’t stand up to the oppressive heat of the unstable star.

Lotor let out a hoarse, guttural cry as he drove the ship further into the sun, and Keith allowed his grip to fall slack, his legs to give out. He crumpled to the floor, the searing-hot metal practically burning his cheek where he lay. The air was thick like molten rock as he forced himself to breathe. One breath, followed by another, followed by another.

 _How_ was Lotor managing to pilot under these conditions?

Lotor let out another cry, and the ship lurched suddenly upward. Keith dragged shaking limbs towards his torso and forced himself up onto his hands and knees, craning his neck to stare out the viewscreen. Empty space met his view, dark and void with only the occasional distant star breaking the inky view.

They’d made it.

Lotor slumped back against his seat, his breath ragged. “That should buy us time,” he murmured tiredly. “My father’s ships will need time to recalibrate, not to mention the repairs the ships will need from damage from the sun.”

Keith nodded and staggered to his feet. “And our ship?” he asked. “Any damages?”

Lotor grunted, but leaned forward and opened the diagnostics screen. “Overall functions at 46 percent,” he said. “It’s not optimal, but the ship should begin to repair itself soon. So long as we avoid populated areas and Empire patrols, it shouldn’t be long before we are at full capability again.”

“Makes sense,” Keith replied. He hadn’t been aware that the ships had the capability for self-repair – but it was becoming increasingly clear that Lotor hadn’t been as transparent and open as Keith had originally believed. “I’ll head over to the second cockpit,” he added.

Lotor lurched slightly, his eyes widening. “No,” he said sharply, his expression unreadable as he stared at Keith. “No. We’re staying in the same cockpit.”

Keith scowled. “Don’t you have a way to disable communications or something, if you don’t trust me?” he asked, his voice hard. “I’m not going to contact anyone, and it’s more efficient to have pilots in both cockpits. This ship _was_ meant to be flown by two people, wasn’t it?”

Lotor stared at Keith for a long moment before shaking his head. “Pardon any paranoia on my part, Keith, but I’d rather run the risk of a sub-optimal piloting configuration than of betrayal, hidden and conducted before my very face.”

Keith clenched his fists, even as he gave a short nod of understanding. “Fine,” he said. “Will you at least let me take over controls in this cockpit for a while? You look exhausted.”

Lotor hesitated for a long moment, then sighed and pushed himself out of the pilot’s seat. “Know that if you attempt to betray me while I sleep, I _will_ wake in time to stop you,” he warned as he switched places with Keith and dropped to the cockpit floor with a heavy sigh.

“If I planned on betraying you, I’d be very intimidated,” Keith said dryly as he dropped into the seat and took his place at the controls.

* * *

Keith wasn’t sure that Lotor actually slept at all during the seven vargas of rest he took. His dispassionate mask couldn’t quite hide the exhaustion in his eyes, or the way his hands shook. Keith relinquished control of the ship and curled up behind the pilot’s seat to take his own rest, closing his eyes and letting the sound of Empire transmissions wash over him.

_“Fighter Squadron Djalg 14, report in.”_

It was soothing background noise, at least, noise to cover up Lotor’s painful, labored breathing. Keith closed his eyes – he might as well try to rest.

_“No sign of Lotor here. Moving to Zone Rebulon fifty-five.”_

_“Negative, Djalg 15 – that zone is restricted. I repeat, Zones Rebulon four through sixty-nine are off limits. We expect a massive detonation soon that will wipe out everything in the quadrant.”_

Lotor inhaled sharply. Keith peeled his eyes open, though he made no move to remove himself from the floor. “That mean something to you?” he asked groggily.

“Possibly,” Lotor said. “Sixty-five zones cleared, pending previously-unscheduled detonation? If nothing else, it’s worth checking out those zones as a place to hide from the Empire.”

Keith’s heart lurched in his chest, and he sat up straight, staring at the back of Lotor’s head. “It’s cleared for a detonation that will wipe out the whole quadrant, and you want to _go_ there?” he demanded.

Lotor inclined his head, not bothering to turn to look at Keith. “The Rebulon zones contain resources the Empire considers vital. If they’re destroying that entire quadrant, something major must be happening.” Lotor sighed. “I can drop you off at the nearest planet capable of sustaining life before –”

“Why would you drop me off?” Keith demanded, his chest tightening uncomfortably at the thought.

Lotor’s shoulders rose in a minute shrug, accompanied by a barely-perceptible hiss of pain. “Merely going to the area to ascertain the situation carries a high risk of death. I wouldn’t ask you to risk your life for that.”

Keith scowled and clambered to his feet. “I’ve risked my life for you before,” he retorted. “It was only, what, a few vargas ago that you accused me of risking my life by refusing to betray you? Do you _really_ think I’d want you to leave me behind now?”

Lotor looked up sharply, his brow furrowed. “Risking your life in combat and on missions is hardly the same as risking your life due to my desperate situation,” he said.

Keith folded his arms across his chest. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he said, his chest tightening further. If Lotor really wanted to ditch Keith on some rock, Keith would be hard-pressed to stop him – he knew that. But the thought of being left behind – he couldn’t stand the idea of letting Lotor go to possible death alone.

No – when he’d chosen Lotor over the other generals, he’d chosen to never give up on Lotor.

Lotor chuckled humorlessly, but something in his face eased. “Already ignoring my warnings about caution,” he murmured. “Perhaps I can trust you after all. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I drop you off somewhere?”

Keith shook his head. “Let’s check out the Rebulon zones,” he said in response.

* * *

The witch’s personal test cruiser fled after only one shot from the Sincline ship destroyed the energy field protecting its strange, sinister weapon. Keith studied the scene before him with tired eyes; scattered rocks and rubble from destroyed asteroids drifted amongst destroyed galra fighters and rebel ships alike. A handful of rebel ships still drifted, fully intact; to Keith’s surprise, none of them fired on the Sincline ship.

In the distance, Keith could just spot a blur that grew increasingly large and clear with every tick. Voltron.

“Well,” Lotor muttered, settling back with a sigh, “I can’t say this is ideal. I’d rather hoped to open dialogue with Voltron while in a position of relative power – not while fleeing for my life, with neither resources nor authority to offer.”

Keith grimaced. By openly swooping in at the last minute to end the fight between the witch and the rebels, they weren’t exactly in a position to try to leave without at least speaking with the leaders of the rebellion. “Do we have a choice?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Lotor shook his head. “Regrettably, I believe we must seek asylum. At least Voltron will surely be less likely to execute me than my father would,” he said, tapping the controls screen and opening an open hailing frequency. “Attention, Paladins of Voltron and rebel fighters,” he began, the exhaustion that had colored his words for the past many vargas sliding away, leaving him to sound cool and collected, entirely in control. “I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but I think it is time we had a discussion.”

Keith flinched, his ears flattening back against his head, as the comms exploded in a flurry of loud, staticky chatter. Too many voices spoke at once for Keith to catch what exactly was being said, but the tones of the voices ranged from panicked to enraged to bewildered.

 _“Enough,”_ a voice called finally, his words ringing loud over the slew of voices. _“Prince Lotor, I presume?”_

“You are correct,” Lotor said, cool and measured. “With whom am I speaking?”

 _“This is the Black Paladin of Voltron.”_ Shirogane’s voice, just as collected as Lotor’s, crackled through the cockpit. _“You say you wish to have a discussion. I assume you have terms.”_

Lotor glanced back at Keith for a moment, his brow pinched. “Safe passage and asylum for myself and my general, in exchange for relevant inside information regarding Empire operations and weaknesses.”

 _“Yourself and your general – just one general?”_ The new voice that echoed through the cockpit was high and musical. It belonged to the Altean, Keith was pretty sure.

“I’m afraid I’m only accompanied by one general presently, yes,” Lotor said, pursing his lips.

Nearly two doboshes passed before the comms crackled again. _“We will allow you to dock and enter the Castleship under supervision,”_ Shirogane said. _“You will remain under guard while Princess Allura and I meet with the rebel leaders of the Coalition to discuss terms for treating with you. You will not be harmed. Do you agree to these terms?”_

Lotor muted the comms unit and sighed. “Truly, not how I wanted this initial meeting to go,” he muttered.

“Is refusing their terms even a choice?” Keith asked quietly.

Lotor shook his head. “I don’t believe it is,” he said, before re-activating the comms unit.

“We accept your terms.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just be over here partying internally, because some of the upcoming chapters contain scenes that I've had written in my head for MONTHS. Hey there, paladins! It's going to be fun to explore them from Empire-raised Keith's POV.
> 
> Also, guys. GUYS. The clearly very incredibly talented [Lidoshka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidoshka/), or [Greenapplefreak](https://www.deviantart.com/greenapplefreak/) on DeviantArt, drew an absolutely STUNNING General [Keith](https://www.deviantart.com/greenapplefreak/art/something-wanted-760912970/) . Please go check it out and send the artist love!


	38. Chapter Thirty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Allura's and Shiro's meeting with the Coalition reveals some ugly truths, Keith and Lotor face repercussions for past actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really quick disclaimer about this chapter: I've had it planned since shortly after season 5 dropped, and actually had laid the foundations for it back when I started writing this in November 2017. I've got more to say in the end notes.

The main hangar of the Altean ship was spacious and almost offensively bright, all white walls lit with fluorescent blue. Keith squinted as he followed Lotor down the ship’s walkway, keeping pace just behind him and slightly to the right. If the paladins broke their agreement and attacked, he wanted a clear line of sight.

Four figures stood waiting in the hangar – three paladins, and a vaguely familiar mustachioed Altean man. It didn’t escape Keith that the paladins – red, green, and yellow – all stood with their weapons in hand. None of them raised their weapons to aim directly, but they were hardly a picture of complacency.

Lotor came to a halt before the four, and Keith stopped beside him, eyes fixed on the paladins. His chest ached at the sight of the humans, who he realized were probably only slightly younger than he was, now that he was seeing them outside the battlefield. The yellow paladin, despite being the largest of the group, seemed the most nervous, while the red paladin watched their every move with narrowed eyes, suspicious.

Keith barely glanced at the green paladin, the smallest of the bunch, before looking away. He didn’t want to know what had happened to her to put that spark of pure, unbridled _hatred_ in her eyes.

“So, you’re Prince Lotor,” the Altean said, breaking the tense silence. Abruptly, Keith realized why he seemed so familiar – he was the narrator from that horrendous weblum instruction vid Ezor and Zethrid had made them watch.

He didn’t want to think about Ezor and Zethrid.

“I am,” Lotor said calmly, inclining his head. “And this is General Keith,” he said, nodding at Keith. “If you would tell us your names, as well?”

Keith didn’t miss the way all three paladins looked at him upon hearing his name. Surprise, confusion, and suspicion. He bit back a snort, wondering if the paladins would recognize it for the human name it was, or if they would simply assume that Keith was coincidentally a normal galran name.

The Altean squinted suspiciously. “The name’s Coran Hieronymous Wimbleton Smythe,” he said after a short pause. “That’s Coran for short. These are paladins Lance, Hunk, and Pidge,” he said, indicating the red, yellow, and green paladins respectively.

“Is telling them our names _really_ a good idea?” the green paladin – Pidge – asked, her every word dripping with venom.

Coran merely hummed. “Well, I suppose I could have introduced you as numbers two, three, and four if that would make you feel better,” he said with a shrug. “Anyways! Lance, Hunk, why don’t you bring up the rear while number four and I lead the way to our destination.”

The red paladin shifted his grip on his blaster, raising the tip slightly as he and Hunk circled back behind Lotor and Keith. The message was clear; make the wrong move, and he’d shoot.

Keith kept pace with Lotor and followed Coran through the halls of the ship. Their final destination appeared to be a small conference room, which Coran urged them into before taking up residence at the head of the table, Pidge at his side. Lance and Hunk stayed back for a brief, whispered conversation, and then Hunk made his way to join them at the table while Lance stayed behind to guard the door.

Keith wasn’t sure whether their suspicion was flattering or insulting. They _had_ just saved this entire crew and most of their rebel allies – but then again, they’d fought in the past.

Lotor, for his part, took a seat at the end of the table, across from Coran. After a brief moment of hesitation, Keith lowered himself into a chair beside his prince, perching awkwardly, ready to spring into action at the first sign of a threat.

Silence reigned for several doboshes, and Keith was resigned to a long and uncomfortable wait, when the yellow paladin cleared his throat. “So, I can’t be the only one here who wants to know how exactly you ended up right in position to stop that ship from making Naxela blow up,” he said, his eyes flicking between his teammates and Lotor. “Like, you know how suspicious that is? Want to tell us what you were even, you know, doing out here?”

Keith blinked and leaned back, surprised. That definitely wasn’t the first question he’d expected Voltron would ask – and he definitely wouldn’t have pegged the yellow paladin to be the one to begin the interrogation.

Lotor’s eyes widened slightly, and he tucked his hands demurely in his lap, beneath the table. “We were listening to the Empire’s radio chatter, in an attempt to find a place where my ship would be unlikely to be discovered,” he said. “Rebulon Zones four through sixty-nine were evacuated, and all Empire ships were ordered to avoid the area due to a planned detonation. It seemed as well a place as any to hide – not to mention, for the Empire to destroy this section of territory, something major had to be in the works.” He offered a tight-lipped smile. “Clearly, I wasn’t wrong.”

“Sounds awfully suicidal,” the green paladin snapped, her entire body wired with tension.

Keith tensed, but Lotor merely hummed noncommittally in response.

Another awkward silence fell, lasting another several doboshes. This time, it was Lotor who broke the silence with a labored sigh. “I meant it when I said I would provide you with intelligence regarding the Empire,” Lotor said. “I’m certain you have deeper questions than wondering why I’m here.”

“Well, yes,” Coran said, idly twirling the end of his alarmingly orange mustache between two fingers, “but not without Shiro and the princess in attendance. Wouldn’t want them to miss out on any of this intelligence you claim you have to offer.”

Keith shifted slightly in his seat as Lotor inclined his head graciously. “Of course,” he said. “But considering that they are meeting with the leaders of your Coalition, I hardly expect that they will return to this ship any time soon.”

“What, you got somewhere you need to be?” the red paladin muttered from his position at the door. Keith let his ears fold back with irritation, but if Lotor didn’t see fit to respond to that, then he wasn’t going to say anything.

Lotor was right that the princess and the black paladin wouldn’t be back quickly. Doboshes stretched into half-a-varga. The green and yellow paladin both broke out some sort of datapad, their fingers flying over the screen in an alternating cycle – communicating without letting Keith or Lotor in on the discussion. The red paladin slumped slightly as time dragged, and Keith had to bite back derision – what kind of fighter couldn’t remain at attention for something as simple as guarding a door?

Finally, the door slid open. The red paladin snapped to attention as the princess and Shirogane strode into the room, both still clad in their armor. Keith swallowed hard, his claws threatening to unsheathe at the expressions on their faces. Shirogane wore a face carved from stone, hard and emotionless; the princess, on the other hand, displayed her anger openly, her eyes burning with righteous fury.

“Princess,” Lotor said, inclining his head. If he was intimidated, he wasn’t showing it. “Black paladin.”

Princess Allura took a deep, steadying breath. “I have heard some very disturbing tales of your exploits, Prince Lotor,” she practically spat, “none of which indicate that I ought to allow you freedom on my ship, or trust you as an ally.” She glowered, hands clenched into fists at her sides, somehow seeming to tower above Lotor, even though she, standing, stood only a few inches above Lotor’s seated form. “Shiro, however, has suggested that I hear your explanation for the most heinous incident before I pass final judgment on you.”

Keith cursed internally. If the members of the Coalition and Voltron were idealists, then this couldn’t possibly end well.

Lotor, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “I would rather not start an alliance built on lies,” he said simply, “and I will be upfront that I have done many terrible things, in the name of preventing an even worse outcome. Tell me what you’ve heard, and I will explain myself.”

The princess glared hatefully. “One of our commanders brought his second-in-command to the meeting so she could tell her tale personally,” she said. “Her name is Uicesa, and she is one of the Ila people.”

The Ila – that was familiar. Why was that –

Keith’s stomach sank as he remembered that particular incident. A planet in rebellion. The entire team lured to the surface under the false pretense of discussing terms. Ezor, twisting the lead diplomat’s head from her body. Somehow, they had managed a retreat.

And then they had razed the planet. Keith felt sick with the memory.

Lotor’s expression was unreadable. “And she reported the mass destruction I caused to her planet, I presume,” he said flatly.

The princess drew back as though she’d been slapped. In his peripheral vision, Keith noted that the green and yellow paladins had gone deathly still, as had Coran.

“It’s true, then,” the princess said finally. “You razed her planet. Killed nearly her entire family – wiped out nearly a fifth of the Ila population!”

Lotor raised an eyebrow. “A fifth seems high, considering I had the civilians evacuated from areas with no rebel presence,” he said. “It was not a decision made lightly.”

Keith scowled, mentally berating himself for having even put forth that option to begin with.

The princess opened her mouth, but the red paladin beat her to speaking. “Not made lightly?” he demanded, his voice shrill. “That’s a lot of people dead! That’s – what’s the word –”

“Genocide,” the green paladin said, her voice hard. “That’s genocide.”

Lotor stiffened, his ears drawing back. Keith shivered at the cold fury that glinted in Lotor’s eyes. “‘Genocide’ is what my father would have ordered had he believed I responded to an attempted hostage situation with compassion,” he snapped. “Because the political leadership was involved in attempting crimes against me personally, I could not claim it was merely an ordinary rebellion. Harsh retribution against the planet was the _only_ course of action that would ensure my father didn’t take it upon himself to exterminate every last Ila, one by one.”

The princess opened her mouth to speak, but Lotor cut her off. “I have seen it happen, far too many times. Altea was not the only planet he destroyed, nor were the Alteans the last race he slaughtered, down to individual refugees fleeing from his wrath. Perhaps my methods did result in a fifth of the Ila race dying,” he said, “but the other four fifths remain alive. This would not have been the case had my father determined I reacted with compassion.”

Princess Allura took a deep breath. “Whatever excuse you use to rationalize your actions,” she said, her voice shaking, “I will not have a _murderer_ roaming freely about my ship.”

Lotor raised his eyebrows. “I am to assume that neither you nor your paladins, nor any of your rebels, have ever taken a life, then?” he asked coldly.

“Only ever in the defense of ourselves and others,” she snapped.

“Allura,” Shirogane murmured. The princess stilled – though her hands, balled into fists, trembled.

Shirogane turned to address Lotor. “We will give you two options,” he said, his voice as even as his face was expressionless. “You can leave this ship, and we will not pursue you. Or, you and your general may surrender as war prisoners, to be confined to the castleship’s brig.”

“Whoa, seriously? We’re gonna let them stay on the ship?” the yellow paladin yelped.

Lotor exhaled. “I suppose imprisonment is preferable to almost certain death,” he said. “In any case, I still fully intend to supply you with intelligence against the Empire. I can hardly do so if I’m being hunted across the universe. However, I will make this decision only for myself. I won’t speak for my general.”

Keith gulped, his mouth suddenly dry as all heads turned towards him. So far, the vast majority of the focus had been on Lotor; it took everything he had not to falter under the hostile attention. “I guess I surrender,” he said awkwardly after a moment. “I’m not leaving Lotor behind.”

The red paladin muttered something under his breath. Shirogane nodded. “Leave your weapons on the table,” he ordered. Reluctantly, Keith unstrapped his weapons belt and laid his sword and blaster on the table. Lotor followed suit, carefully settling his sword down, then unclasping his arm bracers to remove several hidden knives. Keith stared, unnerved – he hadn’t known that Lotor carried concealed weapons.

It made sense, it just hadn’t occurred to him.

Fully disarmed and hyper-aware of how vulnerable it left them both, Keith had no choice but to allow Shirogane to fasten cuffs around his wrists, while Princess Allura similarly secured Lotor. Keith swallowed hard. If any of the paladins changed their minds about allowing Keith and Lotor to live, it would be difficult to defend against them.

But it wasn’t like they had a better option.

Shirogane turned from Keith to stand at Lotor’s left, while the princess stood at his right. “Lance, Hunk, walk with this one,” Shirogane ordered, gesturing at Keith.

Keith grimaced as the red and yellow paladins flanked him, one on each side. Shirogane gave a short nod, indicating that they should move forward.

Keith kept his eyes on Lotor’s back, rod-straight and rigid with tension, the entire walk to the brig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, about this chapter. I wrote the unpleasant business that went down with the Ila in November 2017, and I believe that chapter went up in January - aka before even season 5 dropped. I knew I wanted at some point for Team Voltron to react to the knowledge that Lotor has had to get his hands positively filthy in the name of the greater good. When season 5 came out and I determined that this story was compatible with canon up to [episode redacted], I decided I would use that as the reason they imprisoned Lotor in the first place! A tragic story told by one of the rebels, who lost pretty much her entire family and lived with the knowledge that a huge portion of her people were wiped out by Lotor. And from Lotor's point of view, it was the necessary sacrifice of the few to save the many.
> 
> All of this was planned well before season 6 dropped. I swear I didn't mean to basically create insect Romelle. Darn you, season 6, for delivering basically this exact same dilemma! ....At least these paladins know from the start that Lotor has killed people?
> 
> This chapter also serves as a friendly reminder that Desideratum Keith and Lotor are both solidly morally grey - they just might seem less so, since it's told from Keith's POV.


	39. Chapter Thirty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Compared to the conditions in Galra prisons, the Altean brig is practically luxurious.

Compared to a Galran prison cell, the Altean brig was practically luxurious.

The single cell that Keith found himself locked in with Lotor didn’t provide even the illusion of privacy, a translucent cylinder rising from a short metal wall that opened at the touch of the princess’s hand and sealed behind them when she withdrew her fingers. Still, the cell came equipped with a small bed, and brief exploration of the cell’s functions revealed panels that could be activated to allow a small, enclosed fresher to rise from the floor on command.

Kind of the Alteans, to allow their prisoners to see to their own hygiene instead of hosing them down periodically, as was standard in Galra prisons.

Keith exhaled, rhythmically clenching and unclenching his hands to release tension. He resisted the urge to pace as Lotor carefully checked the perimeter of the cell for traps and functions.

“Well, it seems the Alteans have video monitoring in the cell,” Lotor announced after several doboshes. “No visible audio monitoring, though I suppose it could be included with the video device.” He sat down on the bed, grimacing. “Still, quite the step above Empire prisons.”

Keith snorted. “Does it get much worse than Empire prisons?” he muttered.

“I’d argue the Empire’s torture chambers and Druidic laboratories are worse than the prisons,” Lotor responded dryly. “Curious, that the Alteans provide creature comforts even to their prisoners,” he added, indicating the bed beneath him.

Keith hesitated for a long moment, then gingerly moved to sit beside Lotor on the bed. The mattress gave beneath him, almost alarmingly soft. “What now?” he asked.

Lotor offered a tense smile. “Now we provide Voltron with any information they ask for,” he said. “Battle strategies, vulnerable targets, any intel we have regarding the internal state of the Empire – whatever they need.”

Keith grimaced and ground his teeth together. “What if it’s not enough?” he blurted out finally. “What if they get all our intel and –”

“And kill us?” Lotor interrupted. “It’s a possibility. Which is why I want you, whenever possible, to try to keep from attracting their attention.”

Keith stilled. “I don’t follow,” he said slowly.

Lotor sighed. “You share heritage with these paladins,” he said finally. “If the worst happens, and Voltron is less honorable than I hope, I may well be put to death when they’ve wrung all the use they can from me. If that happens, I would rather they not think of you as an active threat. Play up your heritage, and downplay your role as a former member of the Empire.” Lotor’s eyes fixed on Keith’s face, his expression deadly serious. “I won’t allow both of us to die here. If Voltron will kill me, then I need you to live, and eventually take over my role in leading the Empire.”

Keith stared at Lotor for a long moment, holding his gaze. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to do that,” he said finally.

“Keith –”

_“No,”_ Keith snarled, leaping to his feet, his blood icing over as he clenched his hands into fists. “No. You’re insane if you think I’d let them kill you. You – after everything – we _need_ you,” Keith said. “If there’s any hope for a peaceful Empire, a peaceful universe, we need you. I can’t enact your plans, and even if Voltron can manage to bring down the Empire, then what?” A growl built up low in his throat. “And even without all that, I don’t want to live in a universe where you’re dead.”

Lotor’s eyes widened; he stared at Keith, his jaw gone slightly slack. “I am attempting to be pragmatic, here,” he said finally. “Likely, this won’t come to pass – especially considering the attitudes they displayed when learning about the Ila. All I ask is that you be prepared to save your own life and carry on my work if I’m wrong about their moral character.”

Keith clenched his jaw. “Fine,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Thank you,” Lotor said, his lips twitching up in a small smile. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I have found these past few quintants to be… taxing.” His expression softened slightly. “It would be prudent to get some rest. I know there’s only one bed –”

“We’ve shared before,” Keith said, cutting him off. Now that Lotor mentioned rest, Keith could identify some of his irritability as bone-deep exhaustion.

Lotor offered a weary smile. “Still, I wouldn’t want to presume,” he said, nimble fingers already beginning to make work of his outer armor.

Keith stripped down to his flightsuit before climbing back on the bed with Lotor. Though it was soft, the bed was much smaller than the one in Lotor’s quarters at Central Command. There was no way to avoid physical contact, especially as Lotor nudged Keith closer to the short metal wall, putting his body between Keith and the translucent walls.

This close, Keith could feel every twitch and shiver as he lay back-to-back with Lotor. “You’re shaking,” he murmured absently.

Lotor froze, then shifted until he’d rolled onto his other side. Keith did the same, hissing as he banged his elbow awkwardly on the wall. “Lotor?” he whispered, craning his neck until he could see Lotor’s face.

Lotor exhaled, a puff of warm air that lazily caressed the top of Keith’s head. “I’ve no doubt the paladins will be along at some point to begin collecting information,” he said, laying a gentle hand on Keith’s forearm. “I’m not entirely sure what to expect. We both need to be rested when they come.”

It didn’t answer Keith’s unspoken question, not entirely. Still, he nodded and closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into the mattress, and into the warmth radiating from the figure beside him.

* * *

A knock on the outer wall of the cell jarred Keith from his fitful, uneasy sleep. He bolted upwards, nearly smacking his head against Lotor’s back as the prince shot to his feet. Keith was quick to follow, reaching for his waist automatically to grope at weapons he no longer had.

The yellow paladin stood just outside the cell, with two bowls balanced on one forearm and a facial expression that said he’d rather be anywhere else. Even out of his armor, dressed in Earth’s civilian clothing, he cut an imposing figure – tall for a human, and almost as broad as some galra.

“So, um, you’re awake. Cool. Just wanted to let you guys know dinner’s here.” The paladin narrowed his eyes. “I’m about to come in. Both of you, hands up and don’t move.”

Keith took a deep breath, willing his racing heart to calm as he raised both hands to show they were empty. Beside him, Lotor stood in a similar pose, a wry grin pasted on his face. The expression might be enough to fool some people, Keith thought, especially a human who didn’t signal discomfort with flattened-back ears.

The yellow paladin tapped the glass with his free hand, and the front part of the tube slid to the side. The man took barely a step into the cell before practically dropping the bowls on the floor and backing out, slamming the cell door shut again. Some sort of green goop slopped over the edge of one of the bowls, landing with a splat on the floor. Keith wrinkled his nose, but knew better than to complain – it seemed that prison rations were doomed to be unappetizing, even across species.

Couldn’t be worse than gourmet galran cuisine.

“So, uh, I can talk to Allura about getting you guys a cot or something,” the paladin said, almost hesitant. “So, like, you guys don’t have to do this again,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the bed.

Slowly, Lotor lowered his arms. When the paladin didn’t react, Keith followed suit, fighting to keep his features schooled.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Paladin,” Lotor said calmly. “However, that isn’t necessary. The accommodations we’ve been provided are perfectly adequate. I should hate to imply otherwise.”

The paladin’s eyes narrowed, and he turned his gaze from Lotor to Keith. “You good with this, dude?” he asked warily.

Keith frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he couldn’t help but ask. They were prisoners – they had to work with what they were given.

The paladin’s frown deepened. “Right, okay. Someone will come get your dishes… At some point,” he finished lamely. “Don’t, I don’t know, try to make weapons out of the sporks or anything.”

Keith glanced at the unassuming utensil tucked into each bowl, and raised his eyebrows.

“Of course,” Lotor said, offering a bland smile.

The paladin hovered awkwardly for another moment, then turned on his heel, half-jogging for the elevator at the end of the brig’s walkway. Keith exchanged a glance with Lotor, then made his way forward to pick up one of the bowls.

"Kinda surprised they’re feeding us this early,” he commented, edging a bit of the goop onto the offered utensil – spork, the paladin had called it.

“I think we can assume the Alteans are less austere towards their prisoners than the Galra in every way,” Lotor said, picking up his own bowl and touching a tiny morsel of the goo to his tongue. “It doesn’t even seem to be drugged,” he added.

Keith, who had just swallowed his first bite, felt the blood drain from his face. “I didn’t even think about that,” he said, his stomach twisting uneasily as he regarded his bowl.

Lotor offered an inelegant snort. “It’s bland enough that I doubt it could mask the taste of most drugs,” he said, taking a bite of his own goo.

“That we know of,” Keith muttered.

Still, it wasn’t like they could be picky about food. Keith ate quickly, finishing his goo just before Lotor; they piled the bowls at the front of the cell, then retreated back to the bed.

* * *

Several vargas passed before the sound of the elevator moving woke them again. This time, they were both standing and awake when the elevator doors opened to reveal Princess Allura and Shirogane.

Keith swallowed hard. It seemed it was time for the interrogation to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they were cellmates.
> 
> Oh my god, they were cellmates.
> 
> If I ever write any of these scenes from the POV of the paladins, the first food delivery would be on the list. I'd imagine Hunk has some thoughts about the big bad Galra prince snuggling his tiny general.


	40. Chapter Thirty-Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Allura interrogates Lotor in the cell, Shiro takes Keith to a different room for questioning. Voltron has a lot of questions about Lotor.

It was hard to not let his nerves show. Keith watched cautiously as Princess Allura and Shirogane advanced down the walkway, matched in pace and seemingly unhurried. The Princess’s brow was furrowed with tension; Keith couldn’t get a read on Shirogane’s expression.

“Princess,” Lotor said, inclining his head as the two stepped outside the cell. “Black Paladin,” he added, nodding at Shirogane.

Shirogane gave a short, perfunctory nod in return. “Princess Allura has some questions for you, Prince Lotor,” he said evenly. “You will remain in the cell while she asks them. Your general will come with me to answer some questions of my own.”

Keith stiffened, a jolt of fear coursing through his veins. Unthinkingly, he shot a desperate look at Lotor, who stared at the paladin with narrowed eyes.

“Is that really necessary?” Lotor asked. “I assure you, General Keith won’t provide any intelligence that contradicts mine. We are both committed to being open and honest with you and your team.”

“We’d rather determine that ourselves,” the princess said coolly. “What possible objection could you have to being questioned separately, if your intentions are so honest?”

Keith clenched his jaw and closed his fists to hide his unsheathed claws. His insides twisted, nausea building in his gut at the idea of being taken from Lotor.

All they had was the Voltron team’s word that they wouldn’t be harmed – and promises were easily broken. What if the princess – the clearly emotional, idealistic princess – didn’t like Lotor’s answers? She could easily have him hurt or even killed, and Keith wouldn’t even know.

“Very well,” Lotor said after a long pause. Keith’s breath caught as Lotor turned; he stared up into the prince’s eyes as Lotor laid a large hand reassuringly on his shoulder.

“Remember, total honesty – even if you know he’ll hate the answer,” Lotor said to Keith, loudly enough that the princess and the paladin could definitely hear them. “They aren’t Empire interrogators. I’m certain they’ll keep their promise not to harm either of us.”

Keith took a deep breath. On impulse, he clutched at Lotor’s hand with his own, mindful of his claws. “I know you’re committed to peace and honesty, but don’t let her hurt you if she loses her temper,” he pleaded softly.

From the indignant sputtering on the other side of the glass, he’d still been loud enough for the princess to hear. Fine. She might as well know he didn’t trust her any more than she trusted them.

“Your concern is flattering,” Lotor said. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he withdrew his hand from Keith’s shoulder, nudging him forward slightly. “Go, now. The sooner we answer their questions, the sooner we can be reunited.”

Keith nodded, somewhat reassured by Lotor’s reminder that this separation was temporary. His mouth was dry, and his heart hammered loudly, as he made his way to the front of the cell. He stopped just outside the door and held out his hands, waiting to be cuffed.

Princess Allura lowered the barrier, and Shirogane stepped forward. He took Keith’s wrists with unexpectedly gentle hands and cuffed them together, then took hold of his upper arm, the dispassionate yet effective grip of an experienced jailkeeper. In the back of his mind, Keith wondered how many times the paladin had been steered from place to place in that exact same hold.

Keith allowed himself one last look back at Lotor as Shirogane led him towards the elevator. Lotor caught his gaze and offered a small, soft smile. Keith took a deep breath and committed the smile to memory before tearing his gaze away.

* * *

He had anticipated that Voltron’s methods of interrogation would be less painful and more lenient than the familiar methods of the Empire.

What Keith had _not_ expected was to be seated in a relatively standard-seeming conference room. His cuffed hands were affixed to the table with a slack coil of energy that easily allowed him to raise his arms and protect his face; his chair was comfortable, even lightly padded. Keith stared at Shirogane, bewildered.

“Before we start,” Shirogane said, “do you want some water?”

Keith stared at the paladin. “Water?” he asked skeptically.

“Well, a hydration packet. Basically water,” Shirogane said, crossing the room to a small cabinet. “You know, I’ll just get you one. It’s not like we don’t keep enough of them around for when negotiations really get going.”

Keith frowned. That made sense for negotiations, but for interrogation? What was the point in making him comfortable? A ploy, maybe, to make him feel grateful to his would-be enemies?

That made the most sense, even though he’d been planning on being honest anyways. Still, it was unexpected – especially considering how cold and methodical the paladin had been when treating with Lotor. It was if a switch had flipped, presenting a softer, more sympathetic side. Keith took the proffered water packet from Shirogane – still sealed, he noticed. Keith slit the seal with one claw and raised it to his lips, taking just enough of a sip to unstick his dry mouth.

The paladin took a seat directly across from Keith. “So,” he began. “General Keith, right?”

Keith nodded. “That’s me.”

“My name is Takashi Shirogane,” the paladin said. “Most people call me Shiro.”

Silence stretched as Keith waited for him to elaborate. After what couldn’t have been more than a dobosh, but felt so much longer, Keith realized the man was waiting for a response. “Do you expect us to call you Shiro?” he asked curiously.

Shiro shrugged. “Assuming this ever becomes an alliance, you might want to use names, not just titles.”

Something loosened in Keith’s chest. Voltron finding out about the Ila hadn’t completely destroyed the possibility of an actual alliance? There was still a chance to do more than just survive as prisoners?

“Keith,” Shiro said slowly, managing to drag the one-syllable name out for more than a tick. “Is that a normal name for a galra?”

Keith raised his eyebrows. “No,” he said.

Shiro hummed thoughtfully. “Funnily enough, it’s a name where I’m from,” he said, too casual.

Rather than respond, Keith took another sip from the hydration packet. If Shiro wanted to ask about his heritage then he should just _ask,_ rather than dancing around the subject.

Eventually, Shiro seemed to realize that Keith wasn’t going to respond to his unasked question. “Okay, I guess that’s pleasantries aside,” he said, laying a datapad on the table next to his left hand. “We’ll start simple. How long have you worked for Lotor?”

Keith snorted – that question was anything but simple. “Directly? I’ve worked for him for just under four deca-phoebs. It was about a deca-phoeb after he assembled our team that he broached the idea of rebelling against the Empire, so we've been working together that way for slightly less than three deca-phoebs.”

Shiro didn’t take his eyes off Keith as his hand went to the datapad, tapping out something as Keith spoke. Notes, probably. “And indirectly?”

Keith frowned. “That depends,” he said. “I was twelve when I started boot camp under his fleet, seventeen when I joined an enlisted unit, and nineteen when I was recruited to be an officer. All that time, I worked for him indirectly.”

Shiro’s fingers stilled on the datapad. He stared at Keith with wide, disbelieving eyes. “You started boot camp when you were twelve,” he said flatly.

Keith glared. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” he snapped. It wasn’t his fault the Galra had taken him from Earth!

Besides, the alternative for him would have been life hidden away in a tiny shack, mostly alone and clinging to the scraps of time his father could make for him. As fond as his memories of his father were, now that Keith had found friends and family in Lotor and the others, he realized how desperately _lonely_ his childhood had been.

“All right, all right,” Shiro said, raising his hands mildly. Keith bristled at the placating gesture. “So you’ve worked for Lotor indirectly since you were twelve, and directly since you were – how old?”

“Twenty,” Keith replied shortly. Instinctively, he tried to cross his arms, only to be stopped by the wrist cuffs. He directed his gaze to his hands, glaring at the restraints.

“So you've worked for him for a while. How do Lotor’s leadership tactics differ from Zarkon’s?” Shiro asked.

Keith snorted. “Lotor’s nothing like _Zarkon,”_ he spat. “He’s honorable. He’s willing to fight alongside his subordinates. I’ve only ever seen him execute one soldier, the entire time I’ve worked with him.” Narti didn’t count. Narti’s death wasn’t an execution – it was a mercy killing. “Whenever he can, he brings in planets willingly, as citizen worlds, and he _never_ conquers worlds for slaves. He’s even managed to ban slave quotas from most of the planets he inherited from Zarkon.”

Shiro frowned and tapped something on his datapad. “Do you have a way to verify this?” he asked.

Keith hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he admitted. “Not without access to Galra records and systems.” He could name individual planets, but he doubted Voltron would take the time to manually confirm that what Keith said was true.

Besides, he doubted all planets would vouch for the truthfulness of his words. Even allied worlds tended to contain pockets of dissidents and rebels.

Shiro’s questions continued in this vein – asking after Lotor’s tactics, but also his ideals. His battle strategies, and his moral compass. His treatment of his soldiers. His treatment of Keith.

“You said you’ve seen him execute a soldier,” Shiro said, carefully probing.

By now, Keith was bristling, fighting to hide his irritation. If Shiro had any knowledge of galra body language, he could probably tell; Keith had managed to keep his ears from folding back entirely, but his fur stood on end, and his claws refused to fully retract.

“Yes, _one_ soldier,” Keith said, unable to keep his irritation from bleeding into his tone. “General Xarthu. He tried to kill me, so Lotor executed him.”

Shiro frowned. “I see,” he said. “And what are the grounds for execution of a soldier under Zarkon?”

Keith scowled. “As far as the rumors go, existing in Zarkon’s presence when he’s unhappy can get you killed,” he bit out. “Lotor doesn’t even assign corporal punishment to subordinates who irritate him.”

“Is corporal punishment… Is it standard?” Shiro asked slowly.

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “It’s standard. It’s not officially discouraged in Lotor’s fleet, but he doesn’t personally use it. As far as I know, it’s a lot more common in the main fleet.”

Shiro sat back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I see,” he said.

“How is any of this strategically useful?” Keith demanded before he could stop himself.

Shiro lowered his hand and regarded Keith with curious, if guarded, eyes. “Is allying with someone whose motives are unknown a good strategic move?” he asked in return.

Well, he had a point there.

“One last question,” Shiro said. “Tell me about the Ila.”

Keith stiffened. Of course that was coming – he should have known that was coming. “That wasn’t Lotor’s fault,” he said through gritted teeth. The table wavered in his vision as he stared down at his hands. “I suggested we take that action.”

Silence reigned for several ticks. “You did?” Shiro asked uneasily. Some of the previous warmth had fled his voice.

“Yes,” Keith snapped, glaring at his cuffs. “This all happened before we decided to rebel. We had to come down with the might of the Empire, or seem weak. Displaying weakness would have been unacceptable.”

Shiro exhaled. “Would Lotor have taken that suggestion after you started your rebellion?” he asked.

Keith continued to glare daggers at the table. “I don’t know. Maybe, if he couldn’t think of anything else,” he said. “Zarkon’s not a fan of compassion. He’s destroyed at least one of Lotor’s planets when he thought Lotor was too soft on the people.”

Shiro was quiet for a long moment, during which Keith refused to lift his gaze.

“Okay,” Shiro said finally. “That’s enough for now. I’ll take you back to your cell.”

* * *

Keith waited until Shiro and Princess Allura had left the brig before crossing the cell. Lotor had collapsed into a sitting position on the bed as soon as the elevator activated, and Keith wasted no time in throwing his arms around his prince’s shoulders. Even seated, Lotor’s head reached Keith’s chest. Something sharp ached in Keith’s chest when Lotor pressed closer, wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist and breathing out a relieved sigh.

“Are you all right?” Keith asked quietly.

Lotor snorted. “I should be asking you that,” he said. “You’re the one they took from here. I was – I’m very glad you have returned.”

Unthinkingly, Keith carded a hand through Lotor’s hair. _Soft,_ his brain registered, silken strands slipping easily through his fingers. Lotor tightened his grip around Keith’s waist.

“I’m fine,” Keith said quietly. “It was just questions. He…” Keith hesitated. “He asked about you, more than anything,” he said. “They want to know your motivations.”

Lotor let out a soft huff of amusement. “Of course they do,” he murmured, drawing back slightly. Keith let him go, a part of him mourning the loss of the warmth of Lotor’s face against his chest, the security of strong arms holding him tightly.

He wasn’t prepared for Lotor to grasp his hand and tug lightly, gently guiding him to sit on the bed. Bemused, Keith followed, and allowed Lotor to tuck him under one long, powerful arm. “Lotor?” he asked.

“Is this all right?” Lotor asked quietly, looking down at Keith with wide eyes. “I – apologies, it’s just that when they took you away, I did fear for your wellbeing. Not logically, no, but on instinct, I did worry they might not bring you back. Another cell, perhaps, or maybe you’d choose…” Lotor broke off, and began to withdraw his arm.

Keith immediately grabbed at Lotor’s hand to hold it in place. With Lotor’s arm tucked around his shoulders, he leaned into him, melting against Lotor’s side. “It’s _fine,_ Lotor,” he said. “You were worried about me? Well, I was worried about you. Princess Allura seems a lot less emotionally stable than Shiro.”

“Shiro is the black paladin?” Lotor asked. “I believe he is more familiar with battle and hard choices than the princess. I would not call her unstable so much as sheltered; even in times of war, she has always had power to back her. I don’t think she would directly harm me, if for no other reason than to keep her hands clean. She kept her questions to existing Galra targets and battle strategies.”

Keith leaned in closer, pressing against Lotor’s side. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

Lotor squeezed his arm around Keith’s shoulders. “I echo the sentiment,” he said.

They stayed like that, huddled next to each other, for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be solid interrogation (and honestly Shiro was supposed to ask some heavier, darker questions), but it seems that now that these two are trapped in close quarters and in a high-stress situation, all they want to do is cuddle. I'm sure you all have a lot of complaints about that.
> 
> I also had to go back into the rest of the fic and do so much math to figure out how long Keith has been working for Lotor. I think the numbers are accurate? (Obviously math-wise this Keith is older than canon Keith, to have started working for Lotor at 20 and have been at it for almost four years, but w/e it fits the fic and canon is nothing but a loosely recommended suggestion.) Anyways. I'm both surprised by how much time has passed and surprised that Keith has been working for Lotor for less than four years.


	41. Forty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor provides Voltron with various targets throughout the Empire, while Shiro and Allura continue to make it clear that they don't trust Lotor and Keith.

The paladins didn’t separate Lotor and Keith again for interrogation. Quintants bled together, one monotonous day after another, markable only by deliveries of food and semi-regular visits from Princess Allura and Shiro to request information and intelligence from Lotor.

Per Lotor’s request, Keith did his best to blend into the background during these visits. Lotor was, as promised, cooperative and helpful, divulging secrets about factories and bases and even predictive fleet movements. With each successful mission, Keith noticed Shiro’s outright hostility lessening, even if the princess still seemed to despise them and Shiro remained suspicious and wary on the surface.

“This is a good thing,” Lotor said quietly after one such visit. Shiro and the princess had left, satisfied, with the schematics and location of one of the Empire’s most prominent sentry factories. “I believe they are perhaps beginning to see that we’re truly on their side.”

Keith hummed absently and leaned against Lotor. Close contact had become common between them in the past few movements. It made sense while they slept, sharing such a small bed; during waking hours close contact could be avoided, but honestly, what was the point? Keith had grown used to the indulgence, and Lotor never complained.

Maybe Lotor took as much comfort in the contact as Keith did.

“Keith?” Lotor prodded, nudging him gently.

Keith mentally shook himself back to awareness. “Eventually, you’re going to run out of easy missions for them,” he said. “Think that’ll make them turn on us?”

Lotor made a displeased noise. “It’s possible,” he said. “I certainly will warn them before providing them intelligence for difficult missions, or ones where my knowledge may be outdated or incomplete. I should hope that would be enough for them to realize no malice is intended on our part.”

Keith nodded. “Not much else we can do, I guess,” he agreed.

Absently, Lotor wrapped an arm around Keith’s shoulders. “I’ve been considering the possibility of alerting them to the human …stationed… in my former prison lab,” he said. “That may also endear us to the paladins. It won’t be the easiest mission, and inmates may have been transferred, but it’s possible that retrieving one of their own people may lead Voltron to look on us more favorably.”

Keith’s ears perked up slightly. That’s right – Sam Holt. He’d nearly forgotten the human, the first of his kind he’d met other than his father. “That’s probably a good idea,” he agreed. Strategically, it wouldn’t be the most devastating blow to the Empire; slave labor was cheap, and slaves were numerous and easily replaceable. But as a show of goodwill from Lotor, and as an indication that he did value freedom? That would probably go over well.

Several vargas passed. Keith eventually disentangled himself from Lotor to train, running through a routine of relatively stationary exercises on one side of the cell, while Lotor took the other. They may be weaponless prisoners, but Keith had no intention of letting his physical abilities degrade.

He stopped at the sound of the elevator descending towards the walkway, standing straight and staring through the translucent wall of the cell. Lotor, for his part, languidly rose from where he had been stretching and seated himself on the bed as the elevator doors hissed open. Shiro led the way as he and the princess strode forward, halting just outside the cell.

“Your intel checked out,” Shiro said, his eyebrows drawn together has he regarded Lotor, barely sparing a glance for Keith.

Lotor leaned forward, bracing his forearms against his thighs. “You still feign surprise,” he commented idly. “All of the information I’ve given proven correct – every target I’ve provided, easily dispatched. And yet you look at me –”

“As if you were the leader of the most bloodthirsty race of murderers the universe has ever known?” Princess Allura interrupted coldly. A growl caught in Keith’s throat as she spoke. “Do not think the intelligence you’ve provided comes even close to redeeming you for the wrongs you’ve committed.”

Lotor raised his eyebrows. “Can people not change?” he asked. “Barring the fact that I’ve been honest about my previous… regrettable actions… since deciding to rebel against my father, I’ve gone out of my way to minimize damage. Even before then, my father regarded my actions as weak in their compassion. We can’t all have a mythical weapon to allow us to find a third, kinder option when faced with two horrible choices.”

The princess scowled, and Lotor let out an exasperated sigh. “Is it so hard to believe that I wish to return the Galra Empire to a bygone era of peace?” he demanded. “Surely, there must be hope for us.”

Moving quietly, Keith laid a hand lightly on Lotor’s shoulder and glared out at the princess. She looked at Lotor with disgust in her eyes, hatred and distrust emanating from her slight form.

Shiro’s eyes lit on Keith at the motion. Keith glared at him, mentally challenging him to reign the princess in.

“I guess we still need more convincing,” Shiro finally said, narrowing his eyes. He didn’t turn his gaze from Keith.

Lotor’s shoulders tensed under Keith’s hand. “The facts speak for themselves,” he said. “The Galra Empire is completely reliant on quintessence. Serve that need peacefully, and you have a complete paradigm shift, a new dawn for the old Empire. What need is there to expand and conquer by force, if all our needs can be met peacefully? Why take slaves if we have the energy to run the Empire fully automated? Without the need to conquer and enslave, the Galra Empire can expand peacefully, only annexing interested planets and allowing autonomy, rather than subjugating and conquering.”

Princess Allura scowled. “And you’re the man to make this happen?” she snapped.

Lotor sighed. “A large part of my plan from the beginning has been to find a way to harvest quintessence without resorting to the barbarism of the Empire’s methods. Extracting quintessence from entire planets at the cost of every living thing? I think not. And yet, that is the way of the Empire, and will remain the way of the Empire until an alternative is provided.” He glanced at Keith. “My general can confirm this, if you so wish.”

Keith shifted slightly, uncomfortable as Allura turned angry eyes towards him. “He’s telling the truth,” he said. “The Empire runs on quintessence. Most of the soldiers don’t know _why_ they’re out fighting and conquering, but the people with power know. Access to quintessence is the first step to creating a cultural shift.” Lotor had been abundantly clear on that point, at the beginning of their fledgling rebellion.

Allura scowled. “And your solution was to send Voltron to do your dirty work? I assume that’s why you wanted the comet in the first place.”

Lotor’s ears turned back. “I’ve told you this already,” he said, exasperated. “Yes, this is why I wanted the comet. Only Voltron could remove the trans-reality comet, so yes, I’m afraid I had to be a bit duplicitous in effecting its retrieval.”

“But if the paladins were killed, that would be fine for you too,” Shiro said coldly.

Lotor exhaled. “It was a calculated risk, I admit that, but I was relatively certain that you would come through unharmed,” he said, his shoulders drawing up tightly. “And since recovering the comet, I haven’t been in the least bit aggressive,” he pointed out.

Allura’s gaze flicked back to Keith. “And what about your generals?” she asked, looking Keith square in the eyes. "You attacked us," she added.

“Zethrid has a tendency to act hastily,” Keith said shortly. He refused to allow himself to think too deeply about his once-comrades – not while being questioned. “We didn’t expect you to be in the Ulippa System. Once the fight started, it wasn’t like you were going to let us just back out of it.”

“And what would we gain by fighting you?” Lotor asked. “My main focus has been peaceful collection of quintessence, namely finding a way to enter the zone between realities.”

“An obsession with gaining power and quintessence, intent to continue expanding the _Empire,_ and a lack of regard for the lives of others,” the princess spat. “Sounds like you are your father’s son.”

Keith stilled, his blood icing over. He barely had time to pull his hand away before Lotor shot to his feet, practically radiating fury. “It was your father who led the scientific exploration that discovered quintessence – an exploration, I might add, that resulted in the creation of Voltron,” he snapped. “But maybe he shouldn’t have. Perhaps if quintessence was never discovered, the Galra Empire would never have developed such a dependency, and associated thirst for power. Perhaps if not for King Alfor, _none_ of this would have ever happened.”

Allura’s jaw dropped. “How dare –”

“I am working with the situation left to me,” Lotor snapped. “And regardless of what you think my intentions to be, this isn’t a zero-sum game! Meeting the needs of the Galra Empire is the first step to bringing lasting peace to the universe. That is the future I should hope we are both working towards – one of prosperity for all.”

The princess stared at him. Next to her, Shiro shifted, looking intensely uncomfortable.

Lotor clenched his fists. “Don’t forget, I saved your lives, and the lives of all your comrades. I have given you target after target in the Galra Empire, and all of them have been dismantled or destroyed at no cost of life to you. All I ask is to be judged by my actions, rather than your pre-conceptions of my race.”

Allura drew back. “But you are being judged by your actions,” she said coldly. “Make no mistake, Prince Lotor – I do not keep you in this cell merely because you are Galra. I keep you here because I have verifiable proof of the lives you have destroyed, and have heard the stories of the survivors of your rule.”

Lotor was silent for a long moment. “Very well, then,” he said coldly. “If you do not believe my intentions to reach lasting peace – if you will always judge me for taking the best option, when no course of action allows prevention of death – then perhaps you should just finish me and get it over with.”

A fog seemed to descend over Keith’s vision, and he hitched forward, the silence that followed Lotor’s words ringing in his ears. “Lotor,” he hissed, grabbing at his hand. “Don’t even _suggest_ that.” What if the princess agreed? What if she –

Nausea churned in Keith’s gut, and he swallowed rapidly to keep from being sick.

Lotor turned slightly, his furious gaze softening as he looked at Keith. He squeezed Keith’s hand lightly, reassuring.

It wasn’t nearly reassuring enough until the princess took a step back, her eyes wide with shock. “I – we’re done for now,” she said, her voice shaking. “Shiro?”

Shiro’s eyes locked onto Keith, then Lotor, then their joined hands. “We’ll be back when we’re ready for more intel,” he said slowly. “Before we leave,” he added, glancing at Allura before turning to look Lotor directly in the eyes, “I feel the need to remind you that we promised not to harm you.”

Lotor’s grin was humorless as he turned to face Shiro. “That’s very noble, paladin,” he said calmly, “but I’m all too aware of how easily such promises can be broken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy-handed foreshadowing, what heavy-handed foreshadowing.
> 
> Still loosely tracking with canon. (Anyone want to guess where we're going to stop paying attention to canon entirely?) Due to minor differences in motivation, past actions, and level of honesty between this Lotor and canon Lotor (which, considering I started writing this shortly after season 4 dropped, are unavoidable) I didn't follow the dialogue from the episode entirely. (Plus, new hot take that all of this is Alfor's fault. What do you mean, that's victim-blaming?) I do worry I'm being uncharitable in my writing of Allura - I feel like without a friendship with Keith to "humanize" the galra, she'd still have a lot of the prejudices she had back in season 2, but also... It's not my intent to write her as an unreasonable bitch, because that's not how I see her at all? I feel like she might be coming across that way, though...
> 
> Anyways. Enjoy Keith's mini heart-attack when Prince "Extra-AF" Lotor dramatically challenges Allura to just kill him already.


	42. Chapter Forty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lotor continue to provide the paladins with intel.
> 
> The paladins must make a difficult decision between the best of two terrible choices.

Over a quintant passed before the princess and Shiro returned.

The yellow paladin brought food twice, in that time. Keith and Lotor each took a turn using the tiny fresher to wash away the sweat accumulated from training and simply existing. They slept, pressed close together in the tiny bed, Lotor practically curled around Keith, the heat from his body better than any blanket.

In the silent moments between their mundane activities, Keith pondered the best way to approach Lotor about his challenge to the princess. His insinuation that she should kill him – _would_ kill him. Lotor could promise all he wanted that the princess was too prideful to lay a hand on him – Keith wasn’t convinced.

At least the time spent figuring out how to broach the subject kept some of the mind-numbing _boredom_ away. There was only so much they could do, trapped in a tiny cell with nothing but a bed.

(Keith stamped down on the traitorous thoughts that rose in his head before they could fully form.)

It was during one of those quiet moments – they sat on the floor after a poor excuse for a spar, leaning against each other in silence – that the whir of the elevator descending sounded. Keith stiffened, and climbed to his feet alongside Lotor. He took a step back, allowing Lotor to have the foreground as Shiro and Princess Allura approached.

“We’re ready for the next target,” the princess said, her voice stiff.

Lotor inclined his head. “I see,” he said. “Every lead I’ve provided you so far has been unerring, exact, and relatively easy to accomplish. Anything I would give you now would be somewhat more… perilous in nature,” he said carefully, narrowing his eyes.

The princess’s lips turned down slightly. “We’re listening,” she said, her eyes tracking Lotor’s every motion.

Lotor glanced at Keith, then turned back to the princess. “I have some information that I believe you would consider important on a more personal level,” he said warily, his gaze darting to Shiro. “There is a prison, formerly under my control. It houses a special inmate, you might say. A human.”

Shiro stiffened.  “A human?” he said, his normally-stoic voice wavering ever-so-slightly, a rare indication of emotion. “Do you know his – their – who they are?”

Lotor hesitated. “I didn’t get a name,” he began.

“It’s Sam,” Keith said, cutting Lotor off. “Sam Holt.”

Shiro’s emotionless mask cracked for just a tick; grim determination replaced with hope and worry, shame and regret. “He’s alive,” he whispered.

“Shiro,” the princess asked quietly, “is that who I think it is? Pidge’s father?”

“It is,” Shiro said, attempting to school his face to its previous dispassionate expression. He wasn’t very successful, Keith thought idly.

Shiro cleared his throat and turned back to Lotor. “You said this could be perilous,” he said. “Is Sam in danger?”

Lotor frowned. “I wouldn’t say he’s in danger of harm, so much as of being transferred. He may even have been transferred already, though I hope not. I’m sure you understand – my intelligence grows increasingly out-of-date,” he said with a wry smile, indicating the cell around him. “The prison itself is fully automated, with a sophisticated security system…”

Keith allowed his attention to drift as Lotor provided the prison coordinates and internal specifications. At some point, Shiro had stopped trying to maintain his stoic mask, allowing hope and desperation to war across his features. Giving the paladins Sam’s location was definitely a good move, Keith thought. It was almost alarming, how affected Shiro was at learning that Sam was alive.

And here he’d been practically starting to wonder if this particular bunch of humans was _capable_ of positive emotions.

Lotor’s voice tapered off, and Keith drew his attention back to the conversation.

“We need to get this intel to Matt and Pidge,” Shiro said, addressing Allura. “They’ll want to help.” He turned back to face Lotor. “Thank you. We’ll be in touch.”

Keith waited until the elevator was fully out of sight before reaching for Lotor, who had already turned towards him. Strange, how in their time imprisoned together, physical contact had become so normal. Keith was sure he’d had more direct contact with Lotor in the past movement than he’d had in the previous four deca-phoebs.

Keith leaned against his prince, a small smile crossing his face. “That was a good idea,” he said.

Lotor hummed in response, and tugged Keith towards the bed to sit. “We’ll see,” he said, settling down and lightly pulling Keith into his side, angling his body to better see Keith’s face. “I suppose it depends on how successful their mission is. I should hate for this to be the one that they fail.”

Keith relaxed against Lotor. “I guess we’ll find out next time they come down here,” he said. He hoped they succeeded – not just for his and Lotor’s sake. It would be nice to see the second human he’d ever met again.

* * *

Several vargas passed, and Keith and Lotor were preparing for their sleep cycle, when the sound of the elevator cut through the air. Keith frowned, standing awkwardly with his chestplate unfastened and his greaves in a pile on the floor, as the elevator hissed to a halt at the end of the walkway. Lotor, for his part, was still fully armored, but allowed his hands to fall from his hair, halfway through completing his customary pre-sleep braid. His hair billowed from the arrangement, untamed, across his back.

The doors hissed open, and this time it wasn’t just Shiro and Princess Allura who exited. The green paladin stormed through the doors, murder glinting in her eyes and tension radiating from her small body.

“Pidge, slow down!” an unfamiliar voice called. A human who Keith had never seen before pushed past the red paladin and Shiro – stars, _all_ of the paladins had packed themselves into the elevator, not to mention this stranger dressed in the uniform of a rebel officer.

“I will not,” Pidge snapped. Keith’s stomach sank at the fury that emanated from her, a contained explosion in too-small a container. “You, get back,” she snarled at Keith, before turning her glare to Lotor. “And you –”

“Pidge, _no!”_ the rebel commander yelled, seizing her by the collar and yanking her back as she reached for the door access pad.

Pidge let out an indignant snarl and twisted to glare at the rebel, a young man who bore an uncanny resemblance to her. Related – probably siblings, Keith guessed.

“Let me go, Matt,” the girl snapped, twisting in her (probably) brother’s grasp. “We’re making this trade!”

“That – Jesus, Pidge – that doesn’t mean we just _open the cell_ without precautions!” the rebel protested, dragging her backwards. “Shiro, make her listen!”

Shiro, who had – along with the princess and the other paladins – crossed the walkway by now, sighed. “Pidge, calm down,” he ordered, his voice soft and sympathetic. “We have to discuss all our options.”

Pidge rounded on Shiro; Keith couldn’t see her expression, but from her clenched fists and tense shoulders, it was probably furious. “Our _options?”_ she demanded. “We either get my dad back, or we don’t and he dies! I’m only seeing one _viable_ option here!”

Keith hissed quietly. It sounded like Sam hadn’t been at the prison after all.

“I’m assuming your father was transferred,” Lotor said quietly, causing the green paladin to whirl on her foot to glare at him. “I’m afraid I don’t have any idea where he might be now.”

“Oh, you might not,” Pidge growled furiously, “but I do. _Zarkon_ has him,” she snapped.

The air in the cell seemed to drop in temperature. Lead settled in Keith’s gut, and Lotor stiffened beside him. “I see,” he said. “That’s unfortunate.”

The green paladin’s lips twisted. Keith took a step back, unnerved by the _hate_ in her eyes. “It is unfortunate,” she said, her voice crackling with rage. “But it’s going to be fine! Your _father_ offered to trade my dad back – and all he wants is _you,”_ she hissed at Lotor.

Lotor drew back, a minute, barely noticeable motion, his ears flattening against his skull. He clenched his hands into fists, but not before Keith caught the distinct sound of his claws unsheathing on instinct. “I see,” Lotor said.

_“No.”_

Keith didn’t recall moving, but suddenly he was between Lotor and the glass, snarling at the green paladin, baring fangs and unsheathed claws. “Don’t you touch him,” he snarled at the girl.

“Or what?” the paladin snapped. “Gonna scratch me to death? I’ll taze you so fast you’ll –”

 _“Stop it,_ Pidge,” the rebel said, speaking at the same time as the black paladin.

“Pidge, that’s enough,” Shiro ordered, his voice intertwining with the rebel’s.

A gentle hand came to rest on Keith’s shoulder. “Keith, stand down,” Lotor said softly. If Keith hadn’t known Lotor for so long, he’d probably miss the slight quaver to his voice, the undercurrent of fear.

Keith shook his head, panic coursing through him. “Lotor, they _can’t,”_ he hissed, clutching his forearm. “They –”

“I am sure this situation can be resolved,” Lotor said, twitching his lips into a strained smile. “This is a situation better resolved through diplomacy than violence.”

Keith allowed himself to bare his fangs. “If they even touch you –”

“Enough, Keith,” Lotor said, drawing back slightly. “I understand you’re worried, but getting emotional won’t help anyone.”

Keith pulled away, slightly stung. He glared again at the green paladin before turning his gaze to look out at the others, hoping to gauge which ones would agree to turn Lotor over to Zarkon.

He had a sinking feeling that it was most, if not all, of them.

Lotor drew himself up tall, every hair in place, a slight shift in demeanor that Keith had seen many times in the deca-phoebs he had known Lotor. “Princess,” he said softly. “Black paladin.”

Shiro, standing at the back of the group, inclined his head; the princess took a slight step back, and nodded for Lotor to continue.

Lotor exhaled. “My father has held the universe in a death grip for millennia,” he said quietly. “He sees it slipping from his grasp because of your efforts, _and_ because of mine. Before you decide to turn me over, I ask you to consider – with our forces combined, we would provide the greatest threat Zarkon has ever faced.” He clenched his fists; Keith wondered how much of that was to hide his open, unsheathed claws. “He knows we could topple his empire, so this is his attempt to tear us apart.”

Shiro’s face remained impassive, while the princess seemed thoughtful – certainly, the least angry Keith had ever seen her. “I’m listening,” she said.

Lotor took a deep breath. “United, Princess, we could forge a new path – open doors to new worlds and crush the tyrannical ways of an old regime –”

“A regime you ran,” Pidge interrupted, clenching her fists. “What?” she asked when Allura turned slightly to give her an admonishing look. “We can’t listen to him! He just wants to save his own skin!”

Keith couldn’t hold back a growl, and Pidge turned to glower at him. “Bite me, you scrawny purple furry,” she snapped. “I wouldn’t expect a _galra_ to understand.”

Lotor sighed. “It’s true,” he acknowledged. “If you return me to my father, he will surely see to my demise. And with his most legitimate threat to the throne removed, he would only grow stronger.”

Pidge directed her hateful glare towards Lotor. “One less threat to Zarkon, and one less threat to us,” she said coldly.

“Threat?” Keith burst out. “As if we haven’t been giving you intel this whole time!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you expect me to forget the times you tried to _kill_ us?” Pidge snapped.

“Pidge,” Shiro snapped, a warning in his voice.

Lotor ignored the exchange. “Your father, King Alfor, once stood side by side with Zarkon, before his corruption,” he said, addressing Allura. “Before my father was poisoned and twisted, before he defiled the Empire and turned it into the abomination it is today, they both protected the universe from harm. There was no foe the paladins of old couldn’t defeat, in part because of their strong alliance. Sadly, that time of peace has been lost, but together, I believe we can find it once more.” His lips quirked. “I sought to bring peace on my own, originally, but my progress was greatly aided by the appearance of Voltron – and Voltron has progressed at bringing peace at a nigh unimaginable rate. Imagine how our efforts would multiply if we joined forces! Princess, imagine a new generation that could lift the mantle of peace! A royal alliance between Altean and Galra –”

“Whoa!” the red paladin interjected. “How ‘bout we _don’t_ imagine that!”

“Lies,” Pidge growled. “Every word is a lie!”

“Because we’ve got _such_ a track record for lying,” Keith hissed.

Lotor turned to the green paladin. “I understand you wish to retrieve your father,” he said, “but you are a fool if you trust Zarkon’s words. You think he’ll return your father as he says? You think the corrupted leader of a ruthless empire will be true to his word? He wants more than just me.”

Lotor was trembling, Keith realized. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around Lotor. A show of weakness wouldn’t help – not now, not while Lotor was trying to present a powerful face.

“You think he’ll double-cross us,” Shiro said.

Lotor snorted. “Naturally,” he said. “I think he’d do anything to rid himself of me and claim the Lions of Voltron. I expect he’ll have a failsafe to ensure you don’t have access to your father until you’ve surrendered everything he desires.

“I understand that you don’t fully trust me,” Lotor said, “and perhaps I have given you all that I can from inside this cell. In which case, I implore you to allow me to prove my usefulness as an ally. I can be of far greater use to you than a single prisoner exchange.”

Princess Allura looked thoughtful. “I suppose an alliance with the heir to the Galra throne could end the war,” she mused, eyeing Lotor.

Pidge released an indignant shout, her shoulders drawing up near her round ears, and the princess turned to face her. “It’s not ideal,” Allura said sympathetically. “I don’t like trusting the galra, but it could be our best option –”

“No!” Pidge shouted, stepping forward, poised to spring, to fight.

“Pidge,” the princess entreated, “think of the lives we could save – think of the countless worlds we could free!”

“Think of my _father!”_ Pidge screamed.

“I’m with Pidge,” the red paladin volunteered. “Let’s get this guy out of here, pronto!”

Keith stared at the paladin, horrified. “Is this how all humans treat prisoners who surrendered to them seeking asylum?” he demanded. Pidge, he could almost understand, but the red paladin?

Maybe his father was an outlier among humans. These paladins – at least the green and red ones – were bloodthirsty enough to rival any Empire soldier.

“I dunno,” the yellow paladin – Hunk, Keith was pretty sure – said thoughtfully. “I mean, if this dude here is on our side like he says he is – you are saying you’re on our side, right?” he added, his eyes cutting to Lotor. When Lotor nodded, he continued. “Then couldn’t he lead the Galra toward peace from the inside?”

“We are turning him in, and getting my dad back!” Pidge shouted. “We have Voltron to bring peace to the universe!”

“Don’t play into Zarkon’s hands!” Lotor half-shouted, allowing desperation to seep into his voice. Keith’s blood ran cold at the sound.

“That’s enough!” Shiro yelled.

Pidge froze, then wilted. “Shiro, _please,”_ she said, turning to face him. “That’s my dad – weren’t you friends? Weren’t you –”

“Just – give me a minute,” Shiro said, covering his eyes with one hand. He smoothed his hand down his face.

“Okay,” he said finally. “We’ll agree to the exchange.”

The floor seemed to drop out from under Keith’s feet. “No,” he whispered, static ringing in his ears as he grabbed at Lotor’s arm. His lungs cramped, and he sucked in a deep breath, another, another – he couldn’t breathe.

No matter how deep a breath he took, he couldn’t get enough air.

Shiro was still speaking, his voice distant to Keith. “As soon as Commander Holt is secure, we’ll go after Zarkon,” he said. “Hopefully we’ll be able to distract him enough to retrieve Lotor before he leaves whatever neutral ground we choose to meet. We _will_ make every effort to retrieve Lotor.” Shiro locked eyes with Lotor. “I’m sorry, but I can’t risk Sam’s life. Once he’s safe, we’ll do everything possible to retrieve you from Zarkon.”

Keith flinched as Lotor covered his hands. “I can hardly stop you, can I?” he said, his voice grim. “Very well. I hope it won’t be too much trouble to allow me to spend my last hours with my general?”

Shiro inclined his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, gesturing for the others to follow him and leave.

Strong arms wrapped around Keith, forcing him to keep his footing when all he wanted to do was sink to the floor. “It’s all right, Keith,” Lotor murmured, guiding him to the bed. “Keith – Keith, listen to me.”

Distantly, Keith realized he was hyperventilating. “I won’t let them,” he blurted out. “I won’t let them – if they try to take you from here – I won’t –”

“You must,” Lotor said, his voice shaking. “Keith, you must let them take me. We’re outnumbered and without weapons. If you try to fight them, they’ll hurt you.”

 _“I don’t care,”_ Keith hissed.

“But I do,” Lotor said. He drew back and wrapped his large hands around Keith’s biceps, staring down intently at him. “Keith. We discussed this when we first surrendered. We knew there was a possibility I wouldn’t survive this imprisonment.”

Keith shook his head desperately. “You also said they probably wouldn’t kill you,” he accused. “You said they’d want to keep their hands clean.”

Lotor sighed. “Which only proves that yet again, I am a trusting fool who puts too much faith in the moral character of others.” He chuckled humorlessly. “How fitting, that this should be my end.”

Keith squirmed his arms out of Lotor’s grasp and threw them around his neck, clutching desperately. “We can get out,” he suggested desperately. “We could – we could find a way to hack the door, we could try to break the glass –”

Gently, with utmost care, Lotor covered Keith’s mouth with a large palm. “Even if either of us had the skill to hack Altean technology, I doubt we have the time,” he said. “This glass won’t break, and you know it.”

Keith tightened his grip. “You’re just giving up?”

Lotor peeled Keith off him and leaned back to meet Keith’s eyes. “I’m not giving up,” he said. “I’m changing tracks. I may be done for, but my plan – our plan – can live on through you,” he said. “Keith, you must help the paladins defeat my father, take the throne at the Kral Zera, and lead the Empire to peace in my place.”

Keith shook his head desperately. “You expect me to work with the people who’re giving you up to die?” he demanded.

“Yes,” Lotor said. “For the greater good of the universe, I expect you to work with them.”

“I – I can’t lead,” Keith said. “You’re the one who can give speeches, and – and strategize, and plan, I’m no _good_ at that, Lotor!”

Lotor raised his eyebrows. “Did you forget why I recruited you in the first place?” he asked. “You may be rusty, but you’ll still make a fine leader – a fine Emperor. _Please,_ Keith,” he said softly, urgent. “I do not wish to spend my last hours arguing with you. Allow me to share with you the rest of the plans I have kept secret, and carry out my legacy.”

Tears were beginning to well in the corners of Keith’s eyes, and he choked back a sob. “Okay,” he finally bit out, a choked, wet acquiescence. “Okay.”

* * *

It seemed that no time at all had passed when Shiro, Pidge, and the rebel returned. A sturdy pair of cuffs dangled from Shiro’s hands, and Keith thought he might be sick at the sight.

“It’s time,” Shiro said quietly.

Lotor inclined his head. “I understand,” he said. “One moment, please.”

Keith didn’t even bother to stop the tears from streaming down his face as Lotor turned to gaze at him. “Remember what we discussed,” he said quietly. “Carry out my plans for me.” Strong, gentle hands came to rest on Keith’s shoulders. “Rule in my stead.” Keith’s breath caught as those gentle hands came to cradle his face. “And – forgive me.”

Something in Keith’s brain froze as Lotor drew their faces together. Something sparked as Lotor’s lips pressed against his own, soft and chaste and sweet. Almost on instinct, Keith reached to wrap his hands around Lotor’s waist, pressing into the kiss, chasing desperately a moment that he’d tried not to admit that he wanted, but that he wanted so desperately, that he would never have again –

Lightning-fast, one of Lotor’s hands moved from Keith’s face to the back of his neck. Keith spasmed shortly, all control to his limbs cut as Lotor scruffed him like a blasted _kit._ “I’m sorry – I don’t trust you not to try to stop me,” Lotor murmured, depositing Keith gently on the bed before releasing his hold.

As Keith struggled to regain control of his limbs, Lotor strode to the front of the cell, his hands already presented for the cuffs. As Keith fought to sit, Shiro opened the door and snapped a cuff around one wrist, then the other.

“No,” Keith rasped, lurching unsteadily to his feet as Lotor exited with Shiro, the door hissing shut behind them. “No – Lotor!” Blind panic coursed through him, and he nearly tripped over his own feet as he staggered towards the door. He screamed as he pounded his fists futilely against the glass. “Give him back! Shiro, _please, don’t do this!”_

Shiro, for his part, looked between Keith and Lotor, his face horrified. Shock and confusion graced the faces of Pidge and the rebel, and Keith sobbed, slamming his aching fist against the glass again. “Please,” he begged.

Lotor turned to meet Keith’s eyes, offering what would be a reassuring smile, if Lotor weren’t leaving for his certain death. “Goodbye, Keith,” he said softly. “I’m glad I got the chance to meet you.”

And then he was gone, Shiro leading him towards the elevator, flanked by the rebel officer and the green paladin. Gone, to be given up to the slaughter. To be given to Zarkon, where the best fate he could hope for was a quick, merciful death.

Keith sank to the floor and sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, they kissed! That's a good thing, right? That's a happy thing, right? Yes? Wow, this chapter has Keith interacting with the paladins, lots of hugs and physical contact, a kiss, so pretty much everything you guys want, right?
> 
> General disclaimer note: You shouldn't scruff adult cats, no matter how much you think it will help immobilize them. Likewise, Lotor shouldn't have scruffed adult Keith to immobilize him.


	43. Chapter Forty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith despairs.

Keith didn’t know how long he remained on the floor of the cell. Eventually, his sobs petered out, raw misery replaced with a numb sort of disconnect. He wondered how long it would take the paladins to get to the hostage exchange location. For all he knew, Lotor was already dead.

The gaping maw inside of him widened further, but he didn’t otherwise react. There wasn’t anything he could do to change things – not now.

He knew that Lotor expected him to carry on. Lotor would want him to pick himself up off the floor of the cell and continue his work. He should be reviewing the plans Lotor had told him, the secrets he’d kept close to his chest. He should be repeating the political points Lotor had left him, fragments of speeches and overall goals. He should be reminding himself of the properties and necessity of quintessence.

The floor was hard and solid beneath his armor, and he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Lotor couldn’t be dead yet, he reasoned. He’d know if he was. He’d _feel_ it, somehow. The pit in his chest would collapse, color would drain from the world, _something_ drastic would happen.

He didn’t look up at the sound of the elevator; didn’t move as footsteps traversed the walkway – closer, closer, closer.

“Hey, man,” Hunk said awkwardly. “Brought you dinner.”

Keith stared at the floor. “Come anywhere near me and I’ll rip your throat out,” he threatened tonelessly, not bothering to look up. “I don’t want your tasteless goo. Leave me alone.”

Hunk didn’t move. “You know Shiro’s gonna do everything he can to get Lotor back, right? We wouldn’t just leave him.”

“No, I don’t know that,” Keith said, his voice flat. “He also promised we wouldn’t be harmed, so forgive me for not trusting the word of a _liar.”_

Hunk was quiet for a moment. “Look, dude, you probably don’t get it – this is Pidge’s _dad._ I know Lotor’s like, your hope for ruling the universe or whatever, but Pidge needs her dad back. She’s been looking for him, like, forever.”

Keith snorted. He pushed himself to his feet and forced himself to meet Hunks eyes. “I don’t get it, huh?” he asked quietly. “Both you and Pidge – you wouldn’t expect a _galra_ to understand her wanting her dad back? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hunk fidgeted awkwardly. “Just, I mean, you guys don’t seem super big on, like, emotion and stuff,” he said. “I mean, I get it! You’re all very, very caught up in fighting and war and all, but like even the good galra we’ve met, like the Blades? Not very emotional.”

“The Blades?” Keith clenched his fists as a surge of anger roiled through him. “No, I guess they wouldn’t be.” He glared, resentment seething beneath his skin. “From what I understand, yeah, they put their mission over everything, including emotional attachments. And I’d guess every other galra you met was on the battlefield?”

“Yeah,” Hunk said slowly, drawing the word out for several syllables.

Keith barked out a short laugh. “So, what, do you just believe galra are emotionless war-machines?” he asked. “No – don’t answer that, of course you do. That’s how you justified giving up Lotor – it’s not like he’s a real person, not to you,” he spat.

“That’s not true!” Hunk said hastily. “We just – look, I didn’t even want to hand him over! But Shiro’s in charge, and even if he weren’t, it’s our best shot to save someone really important to all of us.”

Keith nodded and crossed his arms. “Do humans normally trade people who surrendered to them and put their lives in their hands?” he asked, sardonic. “It wasn’t the impression I got from my dad, or from the stories he told and the books I read, but I’m starting to think humans might have the capability to be just as ruthless as the worst Empire soldier.” He snorted. “And to think, I used to want to meet more humans and connect with that half of me,” he muttered.

Hunk stared at him. “Wait, what?” he asked.

Keith scowled. “Tell me where I lost you,” he snapped.

Hunk was quiet for a long moment, his eyes darting around at random before landing on Keith. “Oh,” he said, his voice faint. “Oh, quiznack. You – you’re half-human. Your dad was a human, oh my god, _that’s_ why your name is Keith! Is – is that even genetically possible? Because like, what are the odds that two completely separate species would be reproductively compatible –”

“Galra hybridize easily,” Keith replied coldly. “Or did you actually think that either Lotor or I were fully galra?”

A tiny part of him winced, cautioning that he was being cruel, that of all the paladins, Hunk deserved his rage the least. But none of the other paladins were there, and the hole in Keith’s chest was continuing to splinter, and really, what did Keith have to lose by alienating the people who sent Lotor to his death?

“Wait,” Hunk said, his eyes widening. “Lotor’s also only half galra? Wh-what’s the other half?”

Keith bared his fangs in a pantomime of a smile, sending Hunk staggering back. “Altean,” he spat. “Your precious princess has been treating one of her own like he’s inherently evil, and now she’s going along with a plan to get him killed. If he’s lucky it’ll be clean –” his throat caught, and he choked on an unexpected sob.

He hadn’t meant to cry again. He’d meant to be mean, and petty, and spiteful; to lash out and take out his hurt on the paladins who’d taken everything from him. Instead, Keith found himself shamefully crying for a second time that quintant, tears streaming down his face, gross, ugly sobs forcing their way from his chest.

“Keith,” Hunk whispered. “I’m so sorry. We didn’t _know.”_

“I-it shouldn’t have mattered,” Keith managed to force out, wrapping his arms around his chest and willing himself to get his emotions under control. “Why’s _that_ the part you’re hung up on, instead of sending someone who put his life in your hands to die? That’s – he was everything to me, _everything,_ and he expects me to carry on and work with the people who good as _murdered_ him. With _you._ How am I supposed to work with people who’ll sell their allies out as soon as it’s convenient?”

“We’ll do everything we can to get him back,” Hunk said, his voice wavering. “Look, even – even Pidge’ll be on-board for that, once we have her dad back.”

Keith stared at Hunk, bewildered by his naivety. “You actually think you’ll have the _chance_ to save him?” he demanded. “If Zarkon doesn’t execute him on sight, he’ll be kept under heavy guard – and his execution won’t be pleasant. You’re an idiot if you think you’ll be able to get to him.”

Hunk frowned. “We rescued Allura from Central Command once,” he said quietly.

“And Zarkon didn’t have any personal investment in her,” Keith bit out. “He’s determined to see Lotor dead.”

“Keith,” Hunk whispered.

Keith shook his head. “Just – leave me alone,” he spat. “You’ve done enough. You _paladins_ took everything from me, and I’m not interested in your platitudes.”

Silence reigned for a long moment. Finally, the door to the cell hissed open. Despite his threats, Keith made no effort to move as Hunk set down the bowl of food goo at the edge of the cell. “Dinner’s there when you’re ready for it,” Hunk said quietly. “I know you don’t believe me, but I really am sorry.”

Keith didn’t bother dignifying him with a response. What even was there to say?

Another long dobosh passed before Hunk finally turned and walked away, leaving Keith alone with nothing but a sad bowl of goo for comfort.

He didn’t bother to touch the miserable thing that passed as food.

0o0o0o0o0

Vargas passed. Dimly, Keith was aware that the ship was moving, first flying with intent and purpose, then moving and even jolting as though trying to avoid hits in battle.

Still, he didn’t pick himself up from the floor.

0o0o0o0o0

The sound of the elevator was familiar, if unwelcome. Keith stared at his knees, his arms wrapped around his shins. His position on the floor was hardly dignified, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The paladins had already seen him at his lowest, had already taken everything from him.

“Let me in first. I doubt he’ll take kindly to seeing any of you.”

Keith’s throat closed as that familiar, impossible voice washed over him, familiar and welcome and so, so very clearly wishful thinking. Great – he was going insane. Keith stared resolutely at his knees, refusing to react to Lotor’s voice. He hadn’t thought he had any predisposition to delusions, but it was the only reasonable explanation.

“Keith.”

The door hissed open, and Keith continued to stare at his knees. “I’m hallucinating,” he choked out. “Great.”

A sharp inhale sounded above him. “Keith, no.”

Warm hands wrapped around his arms and tugged upwards. Keith stumbled to his feet, looking up on instinct. The lump in his throat grew as he stared at Lotor’s face, battered and bruised but so very _alive._ “This can’t be real,” he whispered, even as he met Lotor’s concerned gaze. “I’m imagining things, right? I have to be.”

Lotor shook his head. “No, Keith – I’m real, I’m alive, I _promise,”_ he whispered. His hands fell from Keith’s arms, one warm palm coming up to cradle Keith’s face. “The black paladin – Shiro – he armed me before sending me to my father. They were able to retrieve their target _and_ keep me alive. Keith, I – I killed my father.”

Keith froze. Even in his wildest dreams, he didn’t think he would hallucinate Lotor not only surviving the hostage exchange, but coming out of it with a win. Carefully, he pressed his palm to Lotor’s hand, pushing it further into his cheek. Solid – warm and trembling beneath his touch. He didn’t think he could imagine this.

Lotor was _alive._

“You’re – you survived?” he whispered, his heart pounding in his chest.

Lotor’s expression cracked, devastated. “I did,” he whispered in return. “I’m so, so sorry Keith –”

Keith surged forward, cupping Lotor’s face in both hands and dragging him down, frantically pressing his lips against Lotor’s own.

It wasn’t a good kiss - not at first. His fangs clacked unpleasantly against Lotor’s as he pulled their faces together, but he held on, unwilling to let Lotor slip away from him again. They settled into a more natural rhythm after a few ticks. Lotor wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist, drawing him in closer and shifting the angle to something more comfortable. His tongue swiped across Keith’s lips; Keith parted them in response, allowing Lotor’s tongue to mingle with his own, relief and desperation gradually dissipating to make room for contentment.

Outside the cell, Shiro cleared his throat deliberately. Keith groaned with disappointment as Lotor pulled back, though the prince didn’t remove his hands, holding Keith tightly against him. “I presume we need to discuss our next move,” Lotor said reluctantly.

“We do,” Shiro agreed.

Lotor sighed. “Then I suppose you ought to lock the cell and call the others down,” he said, resigned.

Shiro’s brow furrowed. “You just killed _Zarkon,”_ he said. “I don’t think we can justify keeping you in a cell any longer. Either of you,” he added, nodding at Keith.

Keith hesitated, leaning into Lotor’s chest even as his arms loosened around him.

“You mean to offer us freedom?” Lotor asked, thoughtful.

Shiro shrugged. “I think you’ve proven yourselves trustworthy enough,” he said. “If anyone has a problem with granting you movement within the ship, they can take it up with me,” he added. “Or Allura. When you took down Zarkon, you proved yourself to her.”

Lotor inclined his head. “That’s… greater generosity than I expected,” he said. “Very well. I’ll admit, I’ll be glad to not be confined to this cell anymore.”

Keith fervently agreed.

Shiro’s lips twitched up in a smile. “We should take this discussion to the bridge,” he said, gesturing for Keith and Lotor to follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The show might never point out that the hostage exchange situation was morally dubious at best, but I am the god of this fanfic and so help me I will complain through Keith about it.)
> 
> Welp, Lotor's back and surely nothing else can ever go wrong in future events, right? :) Things going wrong for Lotor and Keith? Perish the thought :)
> 
> ALSO! In exciting (to me, at least) events, [Lidoshka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidoshka/) drew an [absolutely amazing Keitor hug](http://lidoshka.tumblr.com/post/178757167659/lotor-is-so-glad-general-keith-is-fine-fanart-for/) based on the hug scene all the way back in chapter seven (8)! I'll add the link to the relevant chapter, but in the meantime, I recommend everyone to check out the artist's work!


	44. Chapter Forty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No longer confined to the brig, Lotor and Keith adjust to newfound freedom on the castleship.

The bridge was empty save for Princess Allura when they arrived. Along the way, Shiro gave a quick debrief, explaining that the ship had docked on one of the peaceful Coalition planets, Olkarion. They would negotiate temporary terms more akin to a true alliance, while Coran located and assigned them a room.

The true negotiations could begin after they had rested.

Keith couldn’t entirely suppress a flinch as Princess Allura turned to face them, her face simultaneously tired and relieved. “Shiro,” she said, offering a wan smile. She hesitated slightly, then inclined her head at Lotor. “It’s good to see you again, Prince Lotor. General Keith,” she added, acknowledging him his presence.

“I am glad to meet with you again on better terms,” Lotor said quietly.

“Yes, well.” The princess hesitated. “You did just end a reign of terror that has lasted for ten thousand years. Perhaps I was too quick to judge you, at the start.”

Keith privately agreed, even as Lotor shook his head. “It is of little consequence,” he said. “I would prefer to focus our efforts on moving forward, rather than dwelling on the past.”

“I agree,” the princess said, her shoulders slumping, releasing residual tension. “I’ve granted the paladins approximately ten vargas of leisure time before we meet again to discuss our next move. Will that be sufficient time for you both to rest and refresh yourselves?” she asked. “I should like to have your input, since… Well…” She hesitated. “I’ll admit, I had not given much thought to what would happen should Zarkon die before we secured the freedom of the universe.”

Lotor and Keith exchanged a quick glance. Ten vargas was more than enough, Keith thought, though now that she mentioned rest, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the bone-deep tiredness that weighed down his body. He and Lotor had been preparing to sleep when they were interrupted for that terrible trade, after all, and he hadn’t slept since.

“Ten vargas is acceptable,” Lotor said.

Princess Allura offered a tiny smile. “Coran will show you your new living arrangements,” she said quietly. “We’ve assigned you separate rooms next to each other –”

“There’s no need for that,” Lotor said, interrupting her. “Unless you’d prefer your own quarters, Keith?” he asked, tilting his head down to meet Keith’s eyes.

Keith snorted in response. “You don’t normally ask stupid questions,” he said in response. “If you think I’m letting you out of my sight after you almost –”

“I know,” Lotor murmured, one large hand rising to cradle Keith’s face. Keith leaned into the contact, uncaring for the eyes of the others. Apparently, the humans and the Alteans could use some reminders that the galra weren’t just emotionless war-machines.

Near the door of the bridge, someone cleared their throat. Reluctantly, Keith drew back from Lotor and turned towards the source of the noise. Coran stood impassively in the doorway, a single orange eyebrow raised. “Now, I’m sure there will be plenty of time for such personal displays in the _privacy_ of your new room,” he said, his words pointed. “Follow me, boys! We’ll have you settled in before a Blatfitz yearling can bleet ‘Quezar!’”

Keith stared blankly at the man. A glance at Lotor’s face provided no clarity; Lotor hadn’t understood that nonsense phrase either, apparently.

Keith shrugged, and followed the Altean from the bridge.

* * *

Their new quarters were nice enough – nicer than the cell, certainly. Stripped to their flight suits with the lights dimmed, they practically fell into bed, Keith pushing Lotor to the side nearest the wall so he could place himself between his prince and any would-be assailants.

He would forever be grateful to Shiro for giving Lotor a weapon, and he was glad they weren’t prisoners anymore, but that didn’t mean he trusted the paladins.

Keith slung his arms around Lotor’s chest and burrowed his face in Lotor’s neck. He allowed Lotor to cup his chin, gently tugging his face up until their lips could meet, a slower, more languid kiss than the desperation-fueled kisses before.

“I’m here, Keith,” Lotor murmured when they finally broke the kiss. “I – we’re both here. My father is dead, and we’re both alive.” Keith tightened his grip as Lotor began to shake in his arms. “We’re _alive.”_

Keith wriggled slightly until he was in a position to press his lips gently to Lotor’s forehead. “We are,” he whispered. “Do you plan to fight at the Kral Zera?”

“Of course,” Lotor said quietly. “It’s far sooner than I'd anticipated, but I would be remiss to ignore the opportunity to seize the throne. I can modify my plans as necessary once I take power.”

Keith hummed and kissed Lotor again.

Lotor chuckled. “As much as I would love to continue this,” he murmured, lightly brushing his lips against Keith’s, “I’m afraid I am exhausted. Patricide is hardly restful, nor is being a hostage.”

Keith’s stomach soured slightly at the reminder of the hostage situation, but he nodded. “Sleep well, Lotor,” he whispered, closing his own eyes.

Sleep came easily, with Lotor safe in his arms.

* * *

The next meeting on the bridge went…

It wasn’t that it went entirely poorly, but Princess Allura, despite her admittance that she didn’t know what to do now that Zarkon was dead, was adamant that to deliver Lotor to the Kral Zera would be too dangerous. It was short-sighted of her, Keith thought. Voltron may be making strides in this slow war of attrition, but with Lotor as Emperor, they could begin reforms on an Empire-wide scale.

The paladins, for the most part, seemed to agree with their Princess. Only Shiro stood in opposition, watching Lotor thoughtfully.

Keith took an instinctive step towards Lotor as the conversation took a heated turn, Shiro and Allura both raising their voices. “Shouldn’t they let Shiro make the final call?” he asked quietly, his voice too soft for the paladins to hear.

“It seems that Voltron follows an unorthodox chain of command,” Lotor replied, his voice just as soft.

Keith’s attention snapped back to the dispute as Shiro raised his voice again. It seemed that in the few seconds he hadn’t been paying attention, the red paladin had tried to insert himself into the conversation. Whatever he’d said, it clearly wasn’t well-received.

Lotor scowled. “While you all waste time squabbling, sinister forces are conspiring to fill the Galra power void,” he snapped, irritated. “If I do not return to claim the throne, there is no telling who will.”

Shiro nodded, his frame rigid with tension. “Good. Then it’s settled,” he said.

“How does that make it settled?” Pidge asked.

“Our hands are tied. The Kral Zera is happening,” Shiro said, annoyance lacing his voice. “If we want to stop the Galra, we need to put Lotor on the throne immediately.”

“Or we go in with a half-assed plan, Lotor dies, and the universe loses faith in Voltron,” Pidge snapped.

“Guys?” Hunk butted in, his voice tentative. “Should we, like, maybe take some time to think about it? I mean, I’m just saying – we shouldn’t make a snap decision either way.”

Shiro tensed. “Fine,” he said finally. “You’re right.” He hesitated, then turned to the red paladin. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Lance. I do value your input.”

There wasn’t much left to say, it seemed. One by one, the paladins trickled from the bridge; even the princess followed, after watching Shiro leave with narrowed eyes. Only one paladin hung back, watching Lotor and Keith with narrow, calculated eyes.

Keith bit back a growl as the green paladin finally approached them, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

“I’m not sorry,” she said abruptly, tilting her head back absurdly far to meet Lotor’s gaze.

Lotor looked down at her, clearly startled. “Beg pardon?” he asked.

“About the whole, you know,” she said, a defiant glint in her eye. “Turning you over to Zarkon. It got me my Dad back, and if I had to do the whole thing over, I’d do it again.”

Keith snarled, his claws unsheathing as he took a step between her and Lotor. “Are you just here to taunt him?” he hissed, glaring down at the girl.

“Down, boy,” Pidge said flippantly, clearly unimpressed by his display. “I _also_ wanted to say I’m glad you didn’t die, and not just because you’re useful.” She hesitated, silent for a long moment. “It wasn’t personal, that’s all,” she said finally. “I’m not looking for an opportunity to stab you in the back.”

Hot fury thrummed in Keith’s veins, his blood boiling. “Is that all?” he hissed.

“It’s all right, Keith.” One of Lotor’s hands came to rest gently on Keith’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “I understand, paladin,” Lotor said to Pidge. “I appreciate where you’re coming from. I understand what it’s like to have someone so important, you would damn the universe.”

Pidge’s face twisted slightly at his phrasing. “Yeah. Good talk,” she said finally, taking a few steps back before turning on her heel and leaving the bridge.

Keith jerked out of Lotor’s grasp and glared up at his prince. “Just like that, you forgive her?” he demanded.

Lotor sighed. “Keith, I must,” he said. “If we are to work with Voltron, we must not hold unnecessary grudges. It was an unexpected blessing, anyways. My father is dead, and one way or another I _will_ make it to the Kral Zera. We wouldn’t have these opportunities had she not pushed for the hostage exchange.”

Keith scowled in response. Lotor might have forgiven the green paladin, he thought, but he decidedly had not.

“There’s no point in remaining on the bridge,” Lotor said, making his way to a computer terminal and pulling up the ship’s schematics. “We could return to our room – or we could explore our new home?”

As nice as their room was, after so long in a cell, Keith itched to take advantage of his newfound freedom. “Let’s see what this ship has to offer,” he said.

* * *

They ended up in what appeared to be some sort of lounge or empty recreation room, after over a varga of wandering aimlessly through the ship. At some point, Lotor had slipped his hand into Keith’s, and they walked hand in hand, noting the location of the kitchen, the conference rooms, and what appeared to be several laboratories.

Once in the lounge, Keith’s eyes lit on a nostalgically familiar sight – an Earth data-pad, left discarded on one of the couches. “No way,” he muttered, tugging Lotor after him as he reached for the device. “I had one just like this,” he said, picking it up. His data-pad had been green, rather than orange, but the sight was still familiar – reminiscent of days spent reading book after book loaded onto the pad, waiting for his dad to come home.

“What is that?” Lotor asked curiously. “It looks like a data-pad, but none I’ve ever seen before.”

Keith nodded. “It is,” he said. Keith was no hacker, but bypassing the pad’s security measures was laughably easy. The screen unlocked, and Keith drank in the sight of apps and functions, all clearly labeled in English.

After all these deca-phoebs, he was surprised that reading the words came as naturally to him as it had when he was a child.

“I don’t recognize this script,” Lotor mused. “Is this your native language?”

“Yeah, it’s English,” Keith said, selecting the library app.

“I see why you struggled with Galran, then,” Lotor said. “They don’t appear to be remotely similar.”

Keith nodded, scrolling through the almost disappointingly small selection of books. He stilled when he came across a familiar title. A grin split across his face. “I don’t care whose pad this is – they’re not getting it back,” he muttered.

Lotor laughed indulgently and tugged Keith to sit on the couch with him. “I’d really rather you not steal from our allies,” he said fondly, resting his cheek on the top of Keith’s head. “What could possibly have you so enamored?” he asked.

“This pad has _Harry Potter,”_ Keith said enthusiastically. “It’s a book series I read as a kid,” he added. “Centuries old, but still. I loved those books when I was young. They’re ridiculous and completely unrealistic, but still.”

Lotor smiled. “I see,” he said. “Well, if you’re determined to abscond with this data-pad over this Harry Potter, perhaps you should read it to me.”

Keith grinned, already pulling up the first book. “Sounds like a plan,” he said.

In the quiet tranquility of the lounge, they leaned against each other as Keith began to read aloud.

They made it through several chapters before the lounge doors hissed open, revealing the red, green, and yellow paladins. Great. Hunk, at least, Keith didn’t actually hate – with time, he thought he might even be able to like the yellow paladin. Green and red, though?

The red paladin was annoying at best, and only diplomatic necessity was keeping Keith from ripping Pidge’s throat out.

“Aw, man!” the red paladin complained. “First the bridge, and now you’re just hanging out in the _lounge?_ Where we go to _relax?”_

Keith looked up, annoyed, and let his ears flick back. “I was under the impression we were allowed free range of the ship,” he said coolly.

“Yeah, but – hey, is that my data pad?!” the paladin demanded. “Why the _quiznack_ do you have my data pad?!”

“Lance, chill,” Hunk admonished.

Lotor sat up straighter, and Keith pulled the data pad close to his chest. “You have Harry Potter,” he said evenly, raising his eyebrows at Lance. “I was reading it to Lotor.”

“Am I having a _fever dream?”_ Lance screeched. “Some big bad Galra general stole my pad to read _Harry Potter_ to _Prince Lotor?_ How do you even know what Harry Potter _is?”_

Keith turned his gaze towards Hunk and tilted his head. “You didn’t tell them?” he asked curiously.

“What?” Hunk asked, frowning. “Oh! Oh, you mean about the half-human thing? Yeah, I told them that. Still kinda weird to think about.” Hunk turned to Lance. “Lance, I’m pretty sure he knows about Harry Potter because he’s part human.”

“Still!” Lance protested.

Pidge, for her part, watched Keith with calculating eyes. “So, you like Harry Potter, huh?” she asked. “Good choice. I mean, obviously the story is fictional, but still. Gives me all sorts of memories about visiting Hogwarts, before I settled on the Garrison.”

Keith blinked a few times, staring at her. “Just because I haven’t been to Earth in a while doesn’t mean I’m an idiot,” he said slowly. “I know Hogwarts isn’t real.”

Lotor tilted his head at Keith, frowning. Keith, for his part, glowered at the humans. Hunk looked confused, but Lance – who could apparently change moods in an instant – looked like all his dreams had come true at once.

“Well, I mean, that’s what they tell the muggles,” Pidge said, grinning. “But come on. We all know magic is real, even if they call it alchemy or whatever out here in space.”

“Pidge,” Hunk groaned.

“She’s right,” Lance added, his grin wide enough to rival Pidge’s. “My brother Marco went to Hogwarts. Got sorted into Gryffindor, almost failed out because he’s so bad at transfiguration.”

Keith hesitated, looking between the two. Okay, he’d grant that there were mysteries even the greatest scientists couldn’t explain out there, and while he didn’t know anything about alchemy, it _could_ be similar to magic… And Zarkon _had_ kept a witch in his employ…

“I’ll thank you not to tease my general,” Lotor said, though even he sounded mildly amused. “As intriguing as your Earth stories of magic and witches seem to be, they don’t line up with modern alchemy or magic in any known form.”

“Maybe not in space,” Pidge said, shrugging. “It’s different for humans.”

Hunk groaned. “Guys, _please,”_ he complained. “Keith, they’re messing with you. Hogwarts isn’t real.”

“Hunk’s whole family are muggles,” Lance stage-whispered. “Now can I get my pad back?”

Keith scowled, but rose from the couch and handed Lance back his data-pad. “I want copies of all your books,” he said. He faltered slightly, remembering that he didn’t have his own data-pad anymore – he’d left it in his quarters on Lotor’s destroyed cruiser.

“Ugh, fine,” Lance grumbled, snatching his data-pad from Keith. “Are you guys gonna stay here, or what?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at them.

Keith personally had no desire to spend a prolonged period of time around any of the paladins. It seemed Lotor had similar feelings; he rose, shaking his head. “I believe we’ll be departing, now that Lance here has recovered his belongings. Shall we, Keith?” he offered, gesturing towards the door.

Keith offered Lance a final scowl before making his way from the lounge back into the hallways. “Kitchen?” he suggested.

Lotor smiled. “I suppose we may as well assess the amenities,” he said. “Perhaps determine if this ship has food other than the… sustenance… we were provided as prisoners,” he said delicately.

“Still better than Galran food,” Keith muttered as they made their way towards the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then it was all fluff and character bonding and sweet things happening and absolutely no upcoming angst or bad things at all, not here! Trust me. Trust me :) Would I, your author, ever mislead you? It's totally 100% absolute fluff from here on out, I would never ever lie about that ever at all.
> 
> All said, what the heck is this?! A primarily fluff chapter where nothing bad happens?! Seems off-brand for me. Sorry for the Harry Potter nonsense, but I think Pidge and Lance would be DELIGHTED to have a chance to troll an alien (or half-alien) with some knowledge of Earth, but not a lot of Earth-based experiences.
> 
> The scene where Pidge tells Lotor she isn't sorry is a personal headcanon of mine, because as morally effed-up as the hostage exchange was, I don't think Pidge would have any regrets. She got her dad back, and it's just a bonus that Lotor survived and Zarkon is dead. I love Pidge, and I understand her devotion to her family, so I imagine if given another chance she'd do the same dang thing, but I would also like to assume she's smart enough to know that was NOT a heroic action on her part. Heroes can do bad things when the right pressure is applied, and hurting someone doesn't have to be personal. Squeaky-clean characters can get boring, anyways.


	45. Chapter Forty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lotor run into Sam and Matt Holt. A paladin attempts to make amends. Lotor tries to convince the paladins to bring him to the Kral Zera.

The kitchen, it turned out, did have food other than the goo they’d been fed as prisoners, much to Keith’s delight. The refrigeration unit contained several servings of what tasted to Keith like Earth-based food – almost similar to the food they’d consumed at Vrepit Sal’s at the mall so many phoebs ago, albeit cold. Keith couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on Lotor’s face when he took a bite, even though he was sure he looked just as pleasantly shocked.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Lotor ordered cheerfully, offering Keith a gentle smile as he leaned against a counter. “This is a welcome change from our previous rations.”

Keith, for his part, chose to sit on a counter beside what must have been some sort of utensil-decontamination device. “Who says I’m laughing at you?” he asked. “Maybe I’m just happy to eat something other than goo and traditional Galran food.”

“Always an explanation,” Lotor murmured, before taking another bite of his meal.

Several doboshes passed in silence, and then the doors hissed open. Keith went rigid, tension lodging in him automatically, and he slid from the counter, ready to throw himself between Lotor and any hostiles.

In the doorway, wearing identical expressions of surprise, stood the curious rebel officer, and Sam Holt.

“Uh,” the rebel said, his brow furrowing slightly. “That’s new. I’m guessing Shiro okay’d this?”

Keith nodded, and Lotor inclined his head. “If you mean our free movement throughout the ship, then yes. I’m surprised he didn’t communicate the changed terms of our stay to the rest of the Coalition,” Lotor said evenly.

“I know you,” Sam said suddenly, interrupting the conversation. He stepped forward, passing the rebel and staring at them with curious, narrowed eyes.

Keith turned his attention to the former prisoner. “I’m surprised you remember,” he said.

The older man shrugged. “It was a memorable visit,” he said. “When I was captured, I never thought I’d meet a half-human alien named _Keith,”_ he said.

Always back to his name. Keith bit back a sigh, and nodded. “I guess that would be memorable,” he said.

“Wait,” the rebel interrupted, directing a worried gaze to his father. “You interacted with them directly? They actually visited your prison in _person?”_

Sam patted his son’s arm. “It wasn’t a bad thing, Matt,” he said. “They improved our working conditions in exchange for help with a new project, that’s all.”

“Still,” Matt argued, “getting singled out by a commander–”

“Was a good thing, for once,” Sam said.

Lotor cleared his throat. “I assure you – Matt, is it?” he said. When the rebel nodded, he continued. “We did nothing to harm your father.”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “You’d better not have,” he said coldly.

“I have such suspicious and paranoid children,” Sam said, rolling his eyes fondly. “Come on, Matt. Your sister sent us in search of Hunk’s cookies, and I think we’ve interrupted these two long enough,” he said, nodding at Keith and Lotor.

Keith didn’t fully relax until he and Lotor were alone in the kitchen again.

“You know,” Lotor said, raising his eyebrows, “you don’t have to put yourself between me and any perceived threats. I am a perfectly competent fighter myself, as you are well aware.”

Keith scowled. “I didn’t get between you and them,” he argued, picking up his food again.

“No, but you were prepared to. Your body language is hardly subtle,” Lotor said.

Mildly irritated, Keith took one last bite of his food before clasping the cover back on the container. “Finish that or put it away,” he said. “We need to talk, and I’d rather not discuss this in public.”

Lotor stilled, then carefully reached for the cover to his own food container. “Are you giving me orders, Keith?” he asked mildly.

“You know, considering the circumstances, I’m not sure the Galran chain of command applies to us anymore,” Keith said. “So yeah, I guess that was an order.”

Lotor rolled his eyes and took Keith’s food container from him. “I suppose you have a point,” he admitted as he stashed both containers in the refrigeration unit. “Very well. After you, my General,” he said, gracefully indicating that Keith should lead the way back to their room.

* * *

“So. Apparently we need to talk,” Lotor said.

Tucked away in their quarters with the lights dimmed, Keith sat beside Lotor on their shared bed. For once, he didn’t feel the urge to reach out and touch Lotor; not now, not before such a serious discussion.

“I know that objectively, you had it worse than me, during the hostage exchange,” Keith said carefully. A part of him wished for Lotor’s seemingly effortless charisma; he wasn’t sure he’d get all the right words out. “Since you were the one being traded away. But put yourself in my position – I had to live with the knowledge that I couldn’t protect you. For _vargas,_ I had to live with the knowledge that you were dead, and somehow I’d have to go on.”

“I didn’t die, Keith,” Lotor said softly.

“But I didn’t know that,” Keith said, unable to keep his anger from seeping into his voice. _“I didn’t know that._ You being alive – that’s a miracle. I thought I was going insane when I heard your voice, because that was too good to be true. It was impossible that you’d still be alive. So you don’t get to give me a hard time for wanting to protect you. You don’t get to pull the “I can take care of myself” card when the last time I didn’t try to get between you and danger, you were almost killed. Imagine if it was me, dead because you couldn’t protect me, and then by some miracle I came back.”

Lotor was silent for a long moment. “I think I understand,” he said finally. “I’ve had times where I worried you were dead, you know. Always while in battle, but it was still terrifying.” He exhaled. “I – I apologize, Keith. I knew it would hurt you to see me dead, but I thought since I came back…” He hesitated. “May I hold you?”

Something tight uncurled in Keith’s chest at the apology, a hurt he hadn’t even realized he retained. He leaned forward and pressed against Lotor’s front, wrapping his arms around Lotor’s waist. Lotor’s arms circled him, engulfing him with warmth.

Something loud rapped just outside their door. Keith jumped in Lotor’s arms, startled, as Lance’s muffled voice sounded just outside their door. _“”Helloooo? Anyone in there?”_

Keith groaned slightly. “Do we have to answer him?” he asked, even as he disentangled himself from Lotor’s embrace. Better to not be rude by ignoring their “hosts,” he guessed.

Keith pressed his hand to the access pad and allowed the door to hiss open. “What?” he growled, glaring at the red paladin.

“Sheesh, don’t bite my head off when I’m here to be nice,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. Keith recoiled slightly as the paladin brandished something at him, only to realize, at a second glance, that the paladin was holding what appeared to be some sort of Altean data-pad. “Coran dug this out of the castle’s storage,” Lance continued. “It’s for you.”

Keith stared at him for a long moment, before slowly reaching out to accept the data-pad. “Why?” he asked warily.

“So you don’t steal my stuff again,” Lance said breezily. “You said you wanted copies of all my books, right? So I dumped copies of mine on there, and Pidge and Hunk copied their books over as well. Shiro would’ve contributed, except, you know, all his stuff got taken away when he was a prisoner, so you’re stuck with what we’ve got.”

Keith didn’t move, just continued to stare blankly at the red paladin.

“Uh,” Lance said, fidgeting, “you good there? You don’t _have_ to take it if you don’t –”

“It’s not that,” Keith interrupted. “You have no reason to give me anything. Why bother going out of your way to do this?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Out of my way? You know what, yes, finding that data-pad and putting books on it was a terrible trial fraught with danger and hardship. I almost got eaten by a dragon along the way. You now owe me a life debt.” He shook his head. “Look, according to Allura and Shiro we’re going to be working with you guys now, and honestly that’s fair. I’m making nice with our new allies, that’s all.”

Lotor rose from the bed and came to stand behind Keith. “Interesting design,” he said, peering over Keith’s shoulder to look at the piece of tech in his hands.

“I thought so too,” Lance said. “Okay, I’m gonna peace out, because it looks like it’s gonna take forever for Keith.exe to start working again.”

Whatever that meant. Keith allowed Lotor to steer him back towards the bed as Lance turned on the ball of his foot, effectively exiting Keith’s line of sight.

“I don’t get it,” Keith said. A quick test of the data pad revealed that, in fact, the library function was clearly labeled in English, and copies of several hundred books were stored within.

“I’m not sure he has an ulterior motive,” Lotor said. “We haven’t exactly been on great terms with the paladins. Perhaps this is his attempt to make amends.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “He supported the plan to send you to your death, but a few books make up for that. Of course.”

Lotor sighed. “It’s more of a concession than many would make,” he said.

Keith couldn’t deny that.

* * *

They were several chapters further into Harry Potter when the ship shook ever-so-slightly beneath them. Keith looked up, startled, and Lotor stilled.

“An attack?” Keith asked, clambering to his feet.

“Only one way to find out,” Lotor said, rising smoothly. “To the bridge?”

Keith nodded and followed Lotor out of the room and down the halls.

The halls were almost eerie in their emptiness; they reached the bridge without encountering a single other person. On the bridge, Coran stood before the viewscreen, seemingly frozen in place as a large mass of vines rose, caught in a tractor beam.

“It’s the Galra,” Coran whispered. “This is all their doing.”

Lotor cleared his throat. “What’s happening?” he demanded, striding across the bridge.

Coran didn’t move, frozen in horror. “Voltron,” he said finally, staring at the mass of vines. “They’ve found a way to take Voltron.”

Keith frowned, coming up beside Lotor. “Voltron’s in those vines?” he asked.

Lotor squared his shoulders. “Keith and I may be able to help,” he said. “My ship is powerful enough to take down a Galra cruiser. If you can take us to the docking bay –”

“Absolutely not!” Coran cried out, clenching his fists. “Just because the princess and Shiro trust you aboard the ship, doesn’t mean you can go flying off in your little comet ship!”

Keith scowled. “We can _help,”_ he argued. “I thought we weren’t prisoners anymore.”

Coran tore his gaze from the viewscreen, his eyes flicking between Keith and Lotor. “I…” he began. His throat bobbed, and he clasped his hands together nervously. “Yes, technically that’s correct… Oh, quiznack, this is quite the sticky-wicket – I suppose I can take you to your ship –”

A sudden burst of light flooded the viewscreen, drawing the attention of all three of the bridge’s occupants. Voltron burst free of its vine prison, as powerful and terrifying to witness as it had been the first time Keith had seen it, back at Puig. He swallowed hard, watching in horrified awe as Voltron pulled free from the tractor beam. The robot drew back, poised to attack –

And the cruiser exploded in a burst of green light.

“Well,” Lotor said, his brow furrowed as Voltron flew off, doubtless to assist at some other combat site, “perhaps our assistance won’t be needed after all. It is still very much freely offered,” he added as Coran eyed him suspiciously.

Coran shook his head and turned back to the viewscreen, fiddling with the controls. “Tracking Voltron’s signal,” he murmured. He flipped a switch, and the screen shifted to show a different part of the planet, just in time to see Voltron land a killing-blow on some odd sort of plant-like creature.

Lotor frowned. “These weapons themselves seem almost Olkari in nature,” he murmured. “They certainly aren’t standard Galra weaponry.”

“It’s probably that blasted Galra that occupied Olkarion in the first place,” Coran said grimly. “He may have kept some of their weapons, even after the cube was defeated.”

“Cube?” Keith asked.

Coran waved his hand, turning his attention back to the controls. “Hailing Voltron!” he hollered as he pulled up bridge communications. “Princess! Are you all right?”

 _“We’re fine, Coran,”_ the princess said, her voice tinny where it came through the coms. _“We’re heading back to the Castle now.”_

* * *

“So what you’re saying is, you think this Commander Branko - or whoever - attacked Olkarion as some kind political propaganda?” Pidge asked skeptically.

“To prove his prowess and gain support at the Kral Zera, yes,” Lotor confirmed. “Why else would he attack now? Any Galra who would secure Voltron would seem an attractive candidate to support, and one too powerful to oppose.”

“I understand,” Allura said, exasperated, “but we cannot simply fly into a gathering of high-ranked Galra without a plan! We’d need to coordinate with our allies, we’d need to develop a proper battle plan –”

 “I’m telling you, Branko’s wanton attack was only the beginning,” Lotor said, mildly irritated. “Without an emperor, more and more high-ranking officials are going to start lashing out and consolidating their power at the Kral Zera.”

To Keith’s annoyance, Hunk raised his hand, cutting Lotor off. “Uh, just gonna jump in here. What exactly is the Kral Zera?” As if they hadn’t explained the Kral Zera just that morning, not even a full quintant ago! “Is there food there? It sounds awful fancy.”

“Let’s hope there _isn’t_ food there,” Keith muttered.

Lotor sighed. “It’s the coronation ceremony for a new emperor or empress. It is held on one of the first planets we – the Galra,” he corrected, stumbling slightly over his words, “conquered. Planet Feyiv – a sacred land.”

Shiro narrowed his eyes. “Okay, so, who all will be at this Kral Zera?” he asked, stumbling slightly over the Galran words.

“Allow me to show you.” Lotor turned towards the computer terminal, then froze, twisting awkwardly to eye Allura. “That is – may I, princess?” he asked warily.

“Go ahead,” Allura said, nodding in acquiescence.

Lotor tapped at the terminal, bringing up images onto the large viewscreen. “Warlord Ranveig is one of the fiercest Galra in the Empire. That’s why my father sent him to the fringes of the universe…”

Keith watched the paladins for their reactions as Lotor ran through the list of possible contenders. Ranveig wasn’t a surprise, nor was Commander Gnov, from the brief time they’d spent at Central Command. He would admit to surprise that Lotor considered Quartermaster Janka a contender – didn’t the Kral Zera involve combat?

Out of all the Paladins, Shiro seemed the most thoughtful, his eyes narrowed in calculation.

“And finally, Zarkon’s witch, Haggar.”

Shiro froze for a moment when Lotor brought up the image of the witch, shrunken and shriveled and _wrong._ Keith eyed him, curious.

“We’ve met,” Shiro said finally, his voice clipped. Keith didn’t miss the way Shiro’s flesh hand strayed towards his prosthetic.

Well, that explained more than it didn’t.

“She’s the most dangerous of them all,” Lotor said, his voice clipped. “Because she’s not Galra, and therefore not eligible to rule, she probably has a puppet already – someone she can control and manipulate.” Lotor’s brow furrowed, and his ears drooped.

Keith shivered and folded his arms across his chest as his thoughts inevitably flickered to Narti.

“If the Galra were smart, they’d be working together against her,” Lotor said. He shook his head. “Sadly, that is unlikely to pass. Quartermaster Janka may have the brains to suggest formation of alliances, but the reckless types that tend to compete at the Kral Zera ordinarily rely on brawn, more than brain. If Haggar’s puppet takes over, then stopping Zarkon’s reign will all have been for naught.”

Shiro nodded, folding his arms across his chest. “Then we can’t risk any of them assuming control,” he said. “We should help Lotor take command of the Galra Empire.”

“Shiro, we’ve already discussed this. It’s far too risky!” Allura protested.

Keith sighed and edged closer to Lotor. “Everything in war is a risk, Princess Allura,” he said, scowling. Allura stared at him, surprised, and Keith realized with a start that these may have been the first words he’d spoken to her directly, at least without being addressed first. “You’d rather hang back, and what? Let another Zarkon take the throne?”

Allura flinched, and Lance scoffed loudly. “Please,” the red paladin said, sidling up next to the princess. “Why don’t we let them fight amongst themselves for a while before we do anything?”

Shiro scowled. “You know what we just went through on Olkarion,” he snapped. “And that was just _one_ rogue commander vying for the throne. When the Galra lash out, everyone in the _universe_ suffers.”

“Okay,” Pidge interrupted from the sidelines, “but how would we even get Lotor there without stirring up a huge fight?”

“I’ll be bringing Voltron,” Lotor said casually.

Keith blinked a few times, certain he’d misheard. He stared at Lotor, bewildered. That seemed like a detail that Lotor should have brought up sooner – at least to him!

“Yeah, because Voltron never gets in fights,” Hunk said after a moment of shocked silence.

“Shiro,” Allura said, not bothering to address Lotor, “we can’t allow that to happen.”

Shiro stiffened, then exhaled, the fight leaving his body. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice pointedly neutral. He turned and stalked from the bridge.

After a few seconds of eyeing Keith and Lotor, the other paladins and Coran followed. Keith exhaled and turned to Lotor. “You’ll be bringing Voltron?” he asked incredulously. “Did you just make that up on the spot?”

Lotor shrugged. “It’s an idea I’ve been entertaining since I killed my father,” he said. “It’s well known that my father’s final phoebs were spent obsessing over the retrieval of the Voltron lions. It would be a show of power, to reveal myself allied with all that my father so coveted.”

“But you don’t need Voltron for that.” Shiro’s voice rang across the bridge from the doorway, and Keith jolted with shock – hadn’t he just left? “Zarkon wanted Voltron, but mostly he wanted the Black Lion.”

Lotor looked startled. “Shiro,” he said, inclining his head. “I – yes, you are correct.”

“Didn’t you leave?” Keith blurted out.

Shiro shrugged. “I doubled back,” he said. “Allura and the others – they mean well, but…” His expression darkened. “They have no idea what the witch is capable of,” he said, fury crackling through his words. “They have no idea what she’s done.” He nodded at Lotor. “She can’t be allowed to put a puppet on the throne. Unless any of the Blade of Marmora intend to volunteer, which I highly doubt, you’re the best candidate to take over the Empire.”

“Obviously, I agree,” Lotor said, regarding Shiro curiously. “However, your princess seemed quite clear.”

“She was. We can’t take Voltron to the Kral Zera,” Shiro agreed. “So we won’t. We’ll just take the Black Lion.”

“You’ll help us?” Keith asked curiously.

Shiro nodded. “I’ll fly you to this Planet Feyiv,” he said. He indicated for them to follow as he crossed the bridge and opened a door that Keith had assumed led to a service corridor; the door slid open, revealing – of all things – a zipline. “And the sooner we get going, the less likely we are to get caught.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I know "Clone-Shiro just supported Lotor because Operation Kuron, blahblahblah," but TELL me the original Shiro wouldn't be just as on-board to get that boy in power upon learning the alternative is probably Haggar. Just saying.


	46. Chapter Forty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kral Zera does not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I've put an additional, specific content warning in the end-note, because this chapter has a reasonably-intense scene reflected by the updated tags.

They flew in relative silence, for the first varga. It was surreal, in a way, to be standing inside the cockpit of one of the famed Voltron lions – of the Black Lion itself, even. Keith and Lotor both stood behind Shiro, who took to the controls like he was born to fly the craft. The cool purple lighting of the ship’s interior was oddly comforting, after so long in the bright, blue-lit Altean ship.

“So,” Shiro began finally, breaking the silence. “Say you take the throne. What then?”

Lotor gave an appreciative hum. “I plan to continue my efforts to secure unlimited quintessence to power the Empire without the need to resort to slavery and the destruction of planets,” he said. “As I continue my research, I plan a complete overhaul of the Empire. I’d like to send diplomats to all planets brought forcibly into the Empire to restructure terms, turning slave planets into either willing allies and partners in the Empire, or protectorates allowed to operate independently, while still under Imperial protection,” he said seriously. “Once I have secured unlimited quintessence, I plan to abolish slavery entirely and continue Imperial expanse peacefully, extending our reach through willing alliances only, without conquering and subduing planets to take them by force.”

Shiro let out a thoughtful noise. “You do plan to keep expanding, though,” he said.

“Not by force, I assure you,” Lotor said. “Only to planets willing to form alliances of mutual benefit. I have no desire to ever force even a single individual into service for the Empire, ever again.”

“I see,” Shiro said. “It’s not entirely aligned with the goals of the Coalition,” he said after a dobosh of quiet, “but I’m pretty sure we can come to some agreement.”

“Diplomacy will certainly be a necessity,” Lotor said. “I’m not entirely sure our goals are unaligned. The problem with simply cutting planets loose from the Empire entirely is that they would lose access to Imperial infrastructure and support, which the known universe has largely come to depend on. I don’t see why we cannot free planets without cutting them off from the Empire’s resources as a whole.”

“Benevolent imperialism,” Shiro said dryly, though he didn’t sound entirely opposed. “Well, it’s better than anything the universe has experienced in the past ten-thousand years.”

Keith snorted, and Lotor offered a pained sigh. “If you must put it in such terms, I suppose you’re not wrong,” he said.

“What does the Coalition want, politically?” Keith asked curiously.

Shiro exhaled. “Universal freedom, to put it simply,” he said. “Our alliance is tied to no leader, and all planets involved rule themselves.”

Keith wrinkled his nose. “You say it doesn’t have a leader, but it’s called the _Voltron_ Coalition,” he pointed out. “Doesn’t that make Voltron the de facto leader?”

“I…” Shiro paused for a moment. “You know, let’s not put it that way in front of Allura,” he said.

* * *

Planet Feyiv was small, dark, and misshapen. Keith gripped the back of Shiro’s chair nervously as the Black Lion lowered its head, knowing that Lotor was standing steady in the lion’s mouth. This was it, he realized, staring at the swarm of high-ranked Galra gathered at the base of the Steps of Destiny. The Kral Zera itself was dim and unlit, torches bundled near a pool of purplish flame.

 _“Halt!”_ he could just hear Lotor order from his position at the edge of the mouth. _“Your true Emperor has arrived!”_

Keith swallowed hard, his heart in his throat as Lotor strode forward, entering the viewscreen’s field of vision. From within the Black Lion, he couldn’t hear his prince’s words, but he carried himself with confidence, his sword clutched in an easy, practiced grip.

The Galra who seemed to have caught Lotor’s primary attention wasn’t one of the ones Lotor had listed as a primary contender, but then the witch stepped into view, and Keith understood. “That’s the one Haggar picked,” he breathed.

 _“Sendak,”_ Shiro snarled, and – oh. Keith knew that name.

It had been Sendak’s ship that had broadcast Shiro’s first gladiator fight.

“Lotor won’t let him win,” Keith said quietly.

Shiro exhaled. “I guess ejecting him into the void of space in a stasis pod wasn’t enough to kill the bastard,” he growled, clenching his fists.

Keith reared back slightly. “You did _what?”_ he demanded.

Shiro looked back over his shoulder. “In my defense, the castle was malfunctioning and caused me to hallucinate. I didn’t space him on purpose,” he said, pressing his lips together in a thin line. “Still. I was more comfortable thinking he was dead.”

Keith sucked in a breath as Lotor charged forward, his usual grace and elegance underscored with intense determination. Keith hissed as Lotor’s sword clashed with Sendak’s oversized prosthetic hand. “Maybe Lotor will kill him,” Keith suggested as Lotor drove Sendak backwards, the two of them ascending the steps as they twisted and whirled around each other, striking and dodging, looking for an opening.

“I wish I could say I’d mind that,” Shiro muttered.

It was only a few ticks later that Keith noticed the warning signs, the sudden tremors rumbling beneath the lion. “Shiro,” he began, “something –”

The ground beneath the lion rolled, and Keith staggered backwards. _“LOTOR!”_ he shouted as the Steps of Destiny exploded, chunks of stone and debris flying outward into the crowd. Both Sendak and Lotor were thrown from the steps, and dust rolled across the crowd, obscuring the viewscreen.

“What was that?” Shiro demanded. “Is that supposed to happen?”

Keith shook his head. “Can you let me down?” he demanded, his heart pounding wildly. Lotor wasn’t wearing a helmet – he could have been injured in the blast!

Shiro nodded. “Go to him,” he ordered, the Black Lion rumbling as its head lowered.

Keith whirled on his heel and barreled out of the cockpit, running for the edge of the lion’s mouth.

Chaos. In the storm of dust and debris, Keith was hard pressed to make out a single individual face. He raced towards the direction where he’d seen Lotor fall, shoving past commanders and generals and foot soldiers alike.

There! Prone on the ground, Lotor seemed barely conscious. Keith sprinted towards him, dropped to his knees, and skidded to a halt beside him. “Lotor,” Keith hissed urgently, yanking the vambrace off Lotor’s arm and feeling for a pulse. Alive – good. “Lotor!”

Lotor groaned feebly. “K’th?” he muttered.

Keith exhaled. “Thank goodness,” he whispered. “Can you –”

The flicker in the corner of his eye was his only warning, before pain lanced through his body.

Keith screamed as black and purple lightning washed over his body, ricocheting from his armor to his skin, burning where it covered his exposed face and neck, searing where it burrowed beneath armor not designed to hold up to such an onslaught. Keith crumpled to the ground, landing awkwardly on his side, Lotor’s arm pinned beneath him.

“I’d wondered where the fifth one was,” a horribly, dreadfully familiar voice intoned. Keith cracked his eyes open blearily, fighting through the pain to make out the twisted, uncanny face of the witch. “And to think, he was with my son after all.”

Son? Slowly, every movement building on the ache in his body, Keith turned his head towards Lotor. He was –

 _My father’s witch controls all access to information regarding alternate realities. She will never allow me access to my mother’s research, and even asking would bring down suspicion upon us,_ Lotor had said once. Of course. The witch and his mother were the same person.

Lightning shocked through him again, and Keith let out a pained cry. “How fortuitous,” Haggar mused, standing over him. “To think I can collect every last one of my son’s pets – what a convenient method to secure his good behavior.”

Every limb shook as Keith dragged himself to his feet. The witch stood only a short distance away, watching him with amusement. “S-stay away from him,” he panted, fumbling desperately for his sword.

Haggar tsked and flicked her hands, producing yet another burst of agonizing lightning, knocking Keith to the ground again. “How rude, to deny a mother access to her only son,” she said mockingly.

_“Get away from them!”_

To Keith’s shock, the witch whirled towards the new voice. Shiro launched himself over Keith, his prosthetic arm plunging into a whirl of dark mist as Haggar _vanished,_ only to appear again a short distance away.

“Champion,” she said, her low voice amused. “Once again, we meet. I see my son has managed to make lap-yuppers out of the Paladins of Voltron. Perhaps he’s not so useless as he seems.”

Keith struggled to his knees again as Shiro growled and shot towards the witch, his prosthetic glowing purple. “Lotor,” Keith managed to croak, abandoning any attempts to stand as he crawled towards the still-prone body.

“I’ll be taking that,” a cruel, unfamiliar voice said. Keith barely had a tick to register the newcomer before a boot came down hard on his hand. Keith gasped, unable even to scream, as Sendak’s prosthetic hand dropped into his view, closing around Lotor’s torso. “You, though – you’re not worth my time.”

Keith’s vision wavered as Sendak lifted Lotor’s limp body easily. He attempted to push himself to his feet, only to collapse with a cry as his injured hand flared with pain. “No,” he croaked, twisting to watch Sendak’s back. The light of a purple torch cut through the dusty haze, and even as Keith’s vision began to blur out, he could see Sendak’s clear line of progress towards the Steps of Destiny.

Distantly, he heard someone calling his name. Keith twitched in an effort to struggle as two hands descended upon him, hauling him into the speaker’s arms. “Lotor,” he slurred, the blur in front of his eyes becoming even hazier.

“–th. Keith! Stay with…”

Darkness finished encroaching on his vision, and Keith passed out.

* * *

He woke to freezing cold and a sense of falling. A spike of panic shot through his chest, and Keith stumbled forward, colliding with a solid body. He yelped as hands – one flesh, and one metal – caught him under the arms, steadying him.

“Keith.” He flinched, before registering that the figure speaking was Shiro. “You feeling all right? You got shocked pretty bad.”

Shocked? Keith opened his eyes and blinked several times to clear the hazy film from his vision. They’d been taking Lotor to the Kral Zera –

The Kral Zera. Keith jerked out of Shiro’s arms and stared wildly around the room. “Lotor – where’s Lotor?” he demanded. None of the other pods were active, he noticed, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. “Shiro, where’s Lotor?”

Shiro’s face crumpled. “Keith –”

 _“Where is he?”_ Keith shouted, balling his hands into fists.

Shiro swallowed hard, his jaw clenching tightly. “Central Command,” he said finally. “Sendak took him. I’m sorry – Keith, I’m _sorry,”_ he said, his voice cracking.

It couldn’t be true. “No,” Keith said, shaking his head furiously. “No, he can’t –”

Shiro just watched him with sad, regretful eyes. “No,” Keith repeated, ice creeping down his spine.

Shiro sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Allura was right,” he said quietly. “We shouldn’t have gone, not without a solid plan. If we’d stopped to talk with our allies, we’d have known the Blade of Marmora was planning to bomb the Steps of Destiny.”

Keith went rigid. “The Blade of Marmora did this?” he demanded quietly. Shiro nodded, and Keith felt his lips draw back in a snarl. “Rotted, festering _Blades,”_ he snarled.

“They didn’t know we’d be there,” Shiro said softly. “It wasn’t their fault.”

Keith laughed humorlessly. “Of course not,” he spat. “Just one more way they ruined my life. So what now, _Shiro?”_ he hissed. “Let me guess – can’t get him back without a plan, so we’re just going to leave him?”

Shiro sighed. “We’re working on a plan,” he admitted, “but it’s going to take some time.”

“Time,” Keith said bitterly. “Of course. The one thing we don’t have. If they haven’t executed him already, they will soon. But I’m sure we have time –”

“He’s still alive,” Shiro interrupted, “and we have reason to believe he’ll be kept that way.”

Keith looked at him sharply. “How could you possibly know that?” he demanded.

Shiro met his eyes. “Sendak sent a broadcast,” he said quietly. “Lotor is still alive.”

A broadcast? “I need to see it,” Keith said. “I assume you kept a copy.”

“We did,” Shiro said, “but Keith – trust me, you don’t want to see this.”

“I need to _know,_ Shiro,” Keith protested. “I – I know it’ll be bad, but he – he’s my everything, I _love_ him, I need to know what’s happening to him, _please…”_

Shiro sighed. “Okay,” he said. “Follow me to the bridge.”

* * *

 

The first thing Keith noticed, as the bridge doors hissed open, was that the ship had acquired a new occupant. A large Galra man with a thin braid stood to the side of the room, seemingly in urgent conversation with Allura. He didn’t so much as glance up as Keith and Shiro entered the bridge, though Allura spared them a concerned glance.

The second thing he noticed was Pidge, her eyes red-rimmed but her expression determined as she tapped away at some piece of tech. “Don’t interrupt me, Shiro,” she called out as they approached. “I’ve almost got the coordinates – it’s a tricky little encryption, but if that fluffy purple bastard thinks it’ll be enough to keep _me_ from locating Central Command –”

“I know you’ll be able to get it,” Shiro said quietly. “Right now though, I need you to pull up the broadcast on one of the other screens.”

Pidge’s head jerked up at that. “Why d’you – oh,” she said, her eyes landing on Keith. “Keith, no, you don’t want to see this –”

“Stop telling me what I do and don’t want to see,” Keith snapped. “I need to know what happened.”

Pidge took a deep breath. “I can tell you what happened,” she said flatly. “Torture.”

Keith had figured as much, but his blood still ran cold at the thought. “I have to see for myself he’s alive,” he said, his voice cracking.

Pidge sighed, but she twisted one of her many screens around until Keith was staring at the monitor. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said, tapping away at her tech for a few ticks.

The blank screen blinked to life, and Keith immediately bit back nausea at the sight before him. Lotor knelt on the screen, forced to his knees in a public punishment arena, his arms spread wide and bound above him. His torso was bare, but for once the sight filled Keith with nothing but sickness and dread. Behind him stood an Imperial Punisher, wielding an energy whip; a druid stood at the punisher’s side.

 _“Loyal Galra citizens, traitors, and rebels all,”_ Sendak’s voice boomed from somewhere offscreen. _“The former Prince Lotor stands accused and convicted of regicide, patricide, and treason against the Galra Empire. For his crimes, he has been stripped of his rank and citizenship and designated a slave, property of the Galra Empire. Witness the punishment for treachery; this slave will be whipped until he either succumbs to death or begs for mercy as befitting his station.”_

Keith swallowed back bile and clenched his fists so hard he could practically hear the bones creak. He watched as the druid stepped forward and gathered Lotor’s long hair in a single fist. The burst of energy sent phantom-pain through Keith’s body, but the druid had merely used its powers to sever Lotor’s hair at the nape of his neck, fully baring his back and leaving the burnt ends to curl around his cheeks and jawline.

Nothing could possibly decrease Lotor’s beauty, Keith thought, but still outrage swelled in him at the sudden, unasked-for severance of Lotor’s hair.

He knew it was coming, but Keith still flinched at the first crack of the energy whip against Lotor’s back. Lotor didn’t flinch, his face perfectly schooled, not letting out so much of a whimper of pain.

There was only so long even Lotor could hold out, though. Keith flinched when Lotor finally released a noise, a soft moan of pain. Still, the whip continued, inexorable, cracking down another dozen times before.

It was when the punisher brought the whip down twice in the same place that Lotor first screamed. Keith stared, horrified, as his scream only seemed to drive the punisher on, the whip coming down ever faster and, if possible, even harder than before.

He wanted to turn it off. He wanted to bury the broadcast somewhere, as though that would mean this had never happened. He desperately wanted to turn back time, to follow the princess’s orders and keep away from the Kral Zera.

He wanted to wake up from this nightmare with Lotor safe in his arms, assured that this was nothing but a terrible dream.

Lotor hung in his bonds, no longer trying to hold back his moans and cries of pain. His lips twitched, and Keith’s blood ran cold at the thin word that escaped. _“Please,”_ Lotor managed, his voice trembling with strain. _“Please, mercy.”_

The punisher scoffed. _“Who do you beg for mercy?”_ he demanded.

 _“My Lord,”_ Lotor panted, his eyes glassy with pain. _“Please, My Lord,_ mercy –” His words cut off with a cry as the whip came down again on his back.

 _“Wrong answer,”_ the punisher said coldly.

Lotor’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips, and Keith swallowed down nausea. _“Please, My Emperor, mercy, have mercy!”_

The whip came down again, and Keith distantly registered the feeling of tears trickling down his cheeks.

 _“Who do you beg,_ slave?” the punisher asked.

Keith could see the moment Lotor realized what the punisher meant; he lasted for several lashes before his face crumpled, his eyes squeezing shut in defeat. _“Please, master, have mercy!”_ he screamed.

The energy whip fell to the sand beside Lotor, and the punisher took a step back, a smile on his face.

Keith turned his head and allowed himself to lose the fight against nausea, doubling over as he vomited bile all over the floor. “No,” he whispered, barely even registering Pidge’s cry of disgust.

He’d known it would be bad, but knowing and seeing were two different things.

“Keith.” He flinched at Shiro’s voice. “I promise, we’ll get him back.”

Keith closed his eyes and nodded. Knowing that the paladins would help – were disturbed by the broadcast – was a good thing, he reminded himself. They would get Lotor back – he wasn’t a lost cause.

Keith just dreaded to imagine what Lotor would be forced to endure in the meantime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: If you are sensitive to torture, public punishments i.e. a public whipping, or explicit depictions of a beloved character being enslaved, take care before reading further starting at "The blank screen blinked to life, and Keith immediately bit back nausea at the sight before him."
> 
> The other major content warning, of course, is the sudden and traumatic loss of Lotor's flowing hair. (He'd still look good with short-ish hair, fight me.)
> 
> Believe it or not, I do love both Lotor and Keith. I promise. I just show my love by torturing Lotor physically and Keith emotionally. I do have an AU of this fic that loosely exists in my head where Lotor lights the flame at the Kral Zera, but I don't think you guys would like that one any better than the actual version of events I went with. Anyways. Have a pile of angst that will only get worse before it gets better.
> 
> From here on out, we say "screw you, canon!" to basically everything! Which is both a good thing and a bad thing for Keith and Lotor, I guess.


	47. Chapter Forty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith works with Voltron and the Blade of Marmora to come up with a plan to rescue Lotor from Central Command.

Keith’s first impression of Kolivan was one of efficient competency that he couldn’t help but grudgingly respect.

The leader of the Blade of Marmora fit with what little Keith knew about the shadowy organization. He was cautious to a fault, mission-oriented, and unsentimental. It became clear almost immediately within the first dobosh of their conversation that, while Allura had requested to meet with him in hopes that he could help them rescue Lotor, his organization’s secrecy was his top priority.

“I understand your impatience to retrieve the former prince,” Kolivan said when Keith expressed his frustration, “but I will not compromise any of my operations to help you. If you come to me with a viable plan, I will see what can be done, but our long-term operations cannot be compromised for the sake of one individual.”

It wasn’t what Keith wanted to hear, but in a way, the blunt honesty was more comforting than Shiro’s empty platitudes that they would get Lotor back.

“You’ve got to have people on the inside at Central Command,” Keith insisted. “Even if they just feed us back intelligence so we can _form_ a plan –”

“I hope I don’t need to impress upon you the risk that comes with every transmission sent from Central Command to our headquarters,” Kolivan said. “You were raised in the Empire. You know what fate befalls traitors. I will not put my operatives in unnecessary danger.”

Keith clenched his fists as Kolivan continued. “We do, however, have an operative moving into place at Central Command. With Ranveig’s death at the Kral Zera, his second, Krolia, has assumed command of his fleet. She’s being transferred to Central Command to swear allegiance to Sendak. _If_ she can provide us with communications without risking herself and her mission, then she will. Anything she sends us, I will provide to Princess Allura. Whether she allows you to view it is up to her discretion.”

Allura cleared her throat, standing uneasily at the sidelines. “Anything she’s able to send us would be greatly helpful,” she said. “I know Pidge and Hunk are working to create a mock-up of Central Command, which we will share with the Blade – and with you, Keith,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes.

Kolivan grunted in assent. “Next time you decide to meddle in an event that could be a tipping point in this war, I’d appreciate it if you would coordinate with us, Princess,” he said. “If we’d known Voltron planned to back a candidate for the throne, we’d have called off the operation before it started.”

Keith winced at that, guilt seeping through him. Allura herself had said something along those lines – that they’d need to make a plan, they’d need to coordinate with their allies. It hadn’t been short-sighted of her at all, he realized. The only reason they were in this situation was because they’d rushed ahead with only a fraction of a plan and not enough intel.

From the guilty expression on Shiro’s face, he was thinking the same thing.

Keith couldn’t take it – he couldn’t just _stand_ there, but he also had no idea how to go about forming a plan. He hadn’t spent enough time at Central Command to fully memorize the planet-sized ship’s schematics, and he had no _clue_ how to go about finding Lotor – where would they even keep a prisoner of his caliber? Surely not in the general population. Sendak would probably want to keep him close – another factor they would have to keep in mind. It would be ideal, to assassinate Sendak _and_ retrieve Lotor, but the first action would draw too much attention.

He turned to Allura. “Princess, may I request access to the training deck?” he asked tightly. If nothing else, it would help him relieve some of this horrible _tension._ Maybe, while going through the familiar motions of a fight, he’d even come up with some sort of plan.

Allura jumped and stared at him, her eyes wide. “Oh!” she said. “Yes – of course. Coran returned your sword to you, right?”

Keith nodded. “Is my armor in the medbay?” he asked, glancing down at the cryo-suit he still wore.

“It should be,” Allura said.

Keith nodded and turned without another word. Sure enough, his armor and sword both were in the medbay. Properly dressed, he set out in search of the training deck.

It wasn’t difficult to find. More difficult was figuring out how to select his opponent – the Altean ship, it seemed, didn’t just keep combat sentries on hand. Keith growled in frustration, staring around the empty room. He could drag out a punching bag and beat on that with his fists, but that wouldn’t be enough.

He wouldn’t exactly be taking down anyone at Centrak Command with hand-to-hand. He needed to _fight,_ to practice and train and get better until he could insert himself between Lotor and any opponent in the universe and win, and keep him safe.

“Tell the system to begin training sequence, and select a level.”

Somehow, Keith wasn’t surprised to hear Shiro’s voice. “Thanks,” he said through gritted teeth. “How high do the levels go?”

“Don’t know.” Shiro came easily into his field of vision. “You’re pretty experienced with that sword, right? So you can probably start somewhere in the double-digits.”

Double-digits – right, that was an Earth term for anything ranging from ten to ninety-nine. Keith frowned. Might as well start low and work his way up. “Begin training sequence, level ten,” he said.

A gleaming white robot dropped from the ceiling, its red optic-sensor gleaming, and Keith felt his shoulders loosen automatically. He let himself fall into the familiar moves of combat, defeating his foe easily. It was easy to shut off his brain, quiet his clambering and screaming thoughts as he selected the next level, then the next.

Shiro cleared his throat as Keith ran his blade clean through the level fifteen robot. “You know, it’s probably about dinner time, if you want to join us,” he said awkwardly.

“I don’t,” Keith said, his voice clipped. Shiro’s face did something weird, and Keith sighed. “Look, I appreciate the offer. Very kind of you. But I’m not hungry.”

“You just came out of a healing pod a few hours ago,” Shiro said. “I’ve never seen someone come out of that and not be ravenous.”

“At least _I_ was able to get medical treatment. You think they’ve offered him medical care or food?” Keith shot back before he could stop himself.

Shiro sighed. “Not taking care of yourself isn’t going to help Lotor,” he said quietly. “I’ll admit I don’t know either of you very well, but from what I’ve seen between you two, he wouldn’t want you to punish yourself over this.”

Keith swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You should go eat with your friends,” he said, turning away. “Begin training sequence, level sixteen.”

He ended up settling on level eighteen when he reached it, a setting that allowed him to fight two moderately-difficult robots. Complex enough to be a challenge, but not so difficult that it was dangerous.

Keith finally stopped after his fifth match against the level eighteen robots. Sweat pooled uncomfortably beneath his flight suit, but he was fairly certain the ship’s schematics had indicated some sort of clothing refresher in the same room as the showers.

He was correct, and he set his flight suit in the unit for a long-overdue cleaning while he busied himself in the shower, firmly refusing to think of Lotor, doubtless forced to wear prisoner rags, and certainly without access to hot, accessible showers.

Scrubbed clean, Keith dressed again in his flight suit and armor. The lights of the ship had dimmed while he washed, indicating its night cycle. Now that his nerves had settled somewhat, Keith’s stomach had no trouble announcing that he was, as Shiro had predicted, ravenous. He fought back a pang of guilt as he made his way towards the kitchen, unable to keep his mind from straying to thoughts of Lotor being forced to eat prison rations.

To his dismay, he wasn’t alone when he entered the kitchen.

“Hah!” Hunk called, jerking a finger at Pidge. “I _told_ you he’d have to come by eventually!”

“Oh, what do you want, a medal?”

“No, I want you to admit that I was right and I’m smarter than you.”

“Just because you were right this time doesn’t mean you’re smarter than me, Mr. ‘Single Modulation is Fine.’”

Keith scowled. “Were you _waiting_ for me?” he asked incredulously. “I don’t have time for this.” He shoved past them towards the cabinets, searching through them until he found something resembling a bowl. Good enough. He’d scoop whatever was in the refrigeration unit into the bowl and book it to his room.

“Oh really?” Pidge asked, folding her arms. “So you _don’t_ have time for the preliminary mock-up of Central Command, including projected sentry movements and the types of security assigned to high-profile prisoners?”

Keith stilled. “You…” he began, at a loss for words.

“Yep, that’s what I thought,” Pidge said. “Hunk, dish him up some dinner while I get started going over the data.”

“Roger that,” Hunk said. “Meet you guys in the dining room!”

Bewildered, Keith followed Pidge out to the dining room. “I don’t understand – why are you helping me?” he asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to her.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Pidge asked, settling her tech down at the table and tapping away, a hologram of Central Command fizzling into existence, projected over the table.

“Because…” Keith shook his head. “You wanted to turn him in before,” he said distantly.

Pidge gave him a sharp look. “I _told_ you, that wasn’t personal,” she said. “It was either that or let my dad die. So yeah, I went with the choice that meant I get my dad back. Doesn’t mean I hate you guys or want bad things to happen to you.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I think I get you guys a little more after that – that thing Lotor said when you first came here, about only having bad choices and having to pick the less-terrible one? That’s what I did.” Her voice was starting to shake. “But right now, there’s a clear right choice, and – and a clear wrong one. I don’t think anyone could’ve seen that footage and not know that,” she said, and Keith was alarmed to see her eyes take on a glassy sheen.

Fortunately, the moment was interrupted as Hunk bustled into the room. “Little bit of tuber masture, and of course, the rest of the pizza rolls, for yours truly,” he said, setting the bowl down in front of Keith, along with a spork. “Feel free to eat while we show you what we’ve got so far.”

Keith’s eyes went wide at the mention of pizza rolls. He’d had them a few times back on Earth, when his dad had picked up a cheap microwave in hopes of expanding the type of food they could keep in the shack. The microwave had broken pretty quickly, but Keith remembered liking pizza rolls quite a bit. Sure enough, the flavor that burst through his mouth was _delectable,_ and Keith bit back a moan of satisfaction. He’d have to have Lotor try these sometime –

And just like that, his stomach soured. Keith chewed mechanically and swallowed dully. “So, what do you have?” he asked.

He ate without enjoying the food as Pidge and Hunk launched into their respective explanations, bringing up different charts and blueprints and maps of projected activity. It wasn’t much, they told him apologetically, and it would require a lot of refinements, but it was a start, and they could begin to build a rescue plan from it.

Keith took some comfort in the knowledge that as he worked to retrieve his prince, he wouldn’t be alone.

* * *

A movement passed, then another. Pidge and Hunk continued their work, and continued to keep Keith updated. Shiro and Allura reviewed possible plans and escape routes, regularly roping Keith into their conversations. Keith wasn’t sure what, exactly, Lance was doing to help – but everyone assured him that Lance was working just as hard as the rest of them.

Still, Voltron couldn’t devote all its time to planning a rescue mission. It was frustrating, the times when Allura and Shiro would cut a meeting short because Voltron was summoned to free a planet, to deliver supplies to refugees, to fight a robeast. Keith knew he should be grateful that they were helping at all, but the impatient part of him screamed that they were running out of time. The longer Lotor spent in Sendak’s grip, the more he would suffer.

Keith just clung to the knowledge that he had to be alive. If Sendak decided Lotor had outlived his whims, surely he would broadcast the execution across the Empire.

Nearly three movements after Sendak had taken Lotor, Kolivan contacted the Altean ship.

_“Our spy in Central Command has made contact and sworn fealty to Sendak,”_ he said, his voice slightly distorted due to distance. _“She was able to record her meeting and provide a visual of Lotor. Sending you the transmission now.”_

Keith, who had been on the bridge discussing potential plans with Shiro and Allura, went still. He stared at the screen, desperation clawing at his insides, as the file loaded, almost excruciatingly slow.

Allura cast a hesitant look at Keith. “You’re sure you want to see this?” she asked quietly.

Keith simply stared at her in response. She sighed, then opened the file.

It was clear from the angle and the muddied visuals that the recording device was clipped around the agent’s waist – disguised as a weapon, probably. Keith’s breath hitched and he stared, hope and anger warring inside him. Sendak was visible on the screen, the agent standing far away enough to capture the entire dais that housed the throne. Sendak lounged carelessly atop the throne, eyeing the agent with boredom.

Keith’s eyes were drawn to the figure beside the throne. He forced himself to breathe, taking in the proof that Lotor was still alive, even if he looked rough.

And he certainly did look rough. His tragically short hair hung around his face as he knelt, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. They hadn’t even bothered to cut off the burnt ends, Keith noted with disgust. Clothed in the rags of a prisoner, Lotor’s hands were chained to the floor, forcing him to remain motionless beside Sendak, a visible trophy of conquest. His face – what little Keith could see of it – was gaunt, almost starved, his cheeks hollow, his eyes hooded with exhaustion.

_“Warlord Krolia,”_ Sendak intoned, his voice a casual drawl. _“To what do I owe the pleasure?”_

The agent took a step forward. _“I’m here to renounce the claim my predecessor made towards the throne and swear fealty to the Empire, and its new Emperor,”_ she said.

_“Is that so?”_ Sendak asked. _“Then make your vow.”_

The agent dropped to her knee, and Keith grimaced at the sudden, jarring change of angle. From here, he could only see Lotor’s hands, clasped together and pinned. _“I fight in the name of Galra. I swear loyalty and service to the Empire and to Emperor Sendak. I vow to perform my service to lead the Galra to victory, even if it results in my death.”_ She rose, and Keith kept his eyes trained on Lotor. _“Vrepit Sa.”_

Sendak nodded dismissively. _“I’ll provide updated orders and movements to your fleet as time permits,”_ he said. _“Dismissed.”_

“Orders to her fleet?” Keith demanded. “Does that mean she isn’t staying at Central Command?” Panic clawed at his chest at that idea – Kolivan had implied that she’d be staying, that she’d be able to help!

“I don’t know,” Allura murmured. “Shiro, resume contact with Kolivan.”

Only a few ticks later, Kolivan’s face appeared on the screen. _“I assume you watched the transmission,”_ he said.

“We did,” Allura said. “Although, it seemed to imply that your agent won’t be remaining at Central Command for long.”

Kolivan inclined his head. _“It can’t be helped,”_ he said. _“Sendak is sending the vast majority of commanders who come to swear fealty in person away. Few have been allowed to remain at Central Command, and none of our people are in that number.”_ He turned his gaze from Allura and met Keith’s eyes directly. _“If you expect assistance from the Blade of Marmora, you will have to act quickly. Does Voltron have a plan in place?”_

Allura leaned forward and activated the ship’s comms. “Pidge and Hunk, will you come to the bridge, please?”

Keith fought to remain still and regulate his breathing as they waited for Pidge and Hunk. Only a few doboshes later, they stumbled onto the bridge, Pidge wiping sleep from her eyes. “What’s going on?” she asked blearily.

“How goes work on the schematics for Central Command?” Allura asked.

“I mean, they could use some tweaking, but they’re basically done,” Hunk said, frowning slightly.

“I’m still not confident about the sentry patterns,” Pidge muttered, “but everything else is solid. I think.”

“Good,” Allura said. She turned back to Kolivan. “How long can we expect your agent to remain at Central Command?” she asked.

_“We can expect she’ll be there at least a few quintants. I cannot guarantee more than a movement,”_ Kolivan said.

Allura nodded. “Give us two quintants to finalize our plan, then,” she said, and Keith’s breath stuttered to a halt.

Two quintants. Only two more quintants before this _nightmare_ could be over.

_“Be sure your plan is solid,”_ Kolivan said. _“Again, she is not to compromise her mission just to help you. If you’re caught, do not expect our help extracting you. If Voltron wishes to allocate their resources to retrieving those who have been captured, that is their prerogative, but it is not the way of the Blade.”_

“Got it,” Keith said quickly.

In two quintants, he’d have Lotor back, safe in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe I started writing this monster over a year ago, and here I am, still writing it.
> 
> I debated drawing out the planning sequence over a few chapters and really letting you guys feel Lotor's loss, but apparently I'm not THAT sadistic. Unless I am. Maybe things will go wrong. Krolia's totally not the type to blow her cover or abandon her mission for any reason whatsoever, right?


	48. Chapter Forty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith meets up with Krolia to rescue Lotor from Central Command.

The Blade of Marmora had been generous enough to lend Keith a stolen Galra fighter. It was a small blessing, as Lotor’s ship and the Altean shuttles would stick out terribly at Central Command.

The plan was simple enough. The Altean ship – the Castle ship, as Allura called it – had wormholed to a location close enough to central command that the Green Lion, copiloted by both Pidge and her brother Matt, could fly in while cloaked. Once close enough, Keith had left the hidden docking bay, blending in with the mass of fighters that flew about the outskirts of Central Command, performing day-to-day operations and maintenance.

He landed in a docking bay that Pidge had managed to hack and have listed as “under maintenance” and exited the ship, uncomfortably clad in a set of too-large Lieutenant’s armor – again, most graciously lent by the Blade of Marmora. Begrudgingly, Keith had to admit that they’d been more helpful than he’d originally thought they’d be.

His wrist comm carried a copy of Pidge’s and Hunk’s map of Central Command and sentry movements, but hopefully he wouldn’t need them. With his armor and helmet, he could pass – at least at a glance – as a member of Zarkon’s forces. He wouldn’t stand up to extended scrutiny, and his stature might draw attention if he didn’t manage to blend into the background well enough, but hopefully everyone wandering about the halls of the ship would be too preoccupied with their own business to pay him any mind.

Sure enough, no one so much as glanced at him as he exited the docking bay. Keith squared his shoulders and made his way to the rendezvous point Kolivan had given him.

It was nothing more than a tiny nook recessed into the wall a hallway down from the Officer’s Mess – a place no one would question seeing a Lieutenant, or even a Warlord. Sure enough, as he approached, Keith’s eyes trained in on a tall, lean figure wearing the armor of a high-level officer. He stepped into the alcove and cleared his throat, fingers itching to stray towards his blaster. If he was wrong, this could be a firefight. “Warlord Krolia?” he asked.

The woman looked up sharply from her datapad, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. “Sent by Sendak?” she asked.

Kolivan had said she’d ask this as confirmation. “Sent by Kolivan,” he muttered quietly.

“You’re the General?” she asked. Keith nodded, and she scowled. “You’re late,” she said. “There’s been a minor change of plans.”

Keith’s heart stuttered, his chest seizing. “What do you mean?” he demanded.

Krolia spoke lowly, her voice quiet enough that Keith could barely hear it. “The original plan was to grab the prisoner during transport. Sendak has already finished displaying his trophy for the day, and handed him over to the witch for the evening.” She scowled. “You’re probably small enough to fit in the vents,” she mused.

“I am,” Keith said. “I’ve done it on other ships.”

Krolia leveled an unimpressed look his way. “We’ll get you in the vents above the druid labs, then,” she said. “Assuming the witch leaves at her usual time, in just under a varga, you’ll have fifteen doboshes to get the prisoner out before the next patrol of sentries passes her way. I’ll put my code into your comms; contact me when you’re in the lab.”

Keith held out his wrist and let Krolia input her code. They waited for the next patrol to pass, and Krolia boosted Keith, helping him into the vents.

Crawling through the vents in armor would make more noise than he’d like, but it’d be less suspicious if he was caught in full armor than just in his flight suit, his hybrid features on clear display. He could pass it off as a dare from one of his fellow lieutenants, if he was caught. Keith pulled up the map the paladins had provided, confirmed the route through the vents, and crawled as swiftly as he dared to the druids’ laboratories, a journey that, at his pace, took nearly a varga.

Even without the map to tell him where he was, Keith immediately identified the correct location when a familiar, chilling voice wafted through the vents.

“– you stop fighting me, you will have all the freedom you desire.” Cautiously, Keith peered through the vents. He swallowed back bile at the sight below him.

Lotor was pinned, strapped to a table at the wrists and elbows, ankles and knees. A solid metal bar pinned his stomach to the table, and he’d turned his head away as far as possible, a tear track running from one eye. The witch sat beside him, carding her hands through his ruined hair, occasionally stroking his cheek with a clawed, withered hand.

“I’ve told you,” Lotor rasped, his voice choked and miserable, “my _terms.”_

The witch chuckled indulgently. “My son,” she crooned, twining her fingers through his hair and tugging cruelly, forcing Lotor to turn his face towards hers. “My sweet, precious son – the only person you have the power to free here is yourself. The Emperor will gladly gift you to me, if I ask, and you’ll be a slave in name only. Don’t you want your freedom, my son? A mother is hardly a master, not really.”

“You’ll _never_ be my mother,” Lotor hissed. “You ceased to be her when you came out of that rift the twisted, festering _abomination_ that you are.”

The witch offered an indulgent smile. “And I have eternity for you to change your mind,” she said, continuing to stroke his hair. “Wouldn’t you like to be free of your chains? I’ll let you assist with my research again, as you did when you were small. It will be just like nothing ever changed,” she purred. Her lips brushed Lotor’s forehead, and Lotor jerked away, several strands of ruined white hair remaining between her clawed fingers as he wrenched free of her grip.

“There is no returning to the way things were,” Lotor snarled, “and if you wish me to even pretend there is, you’ll _let her go!”_

Distantly, Keith wondered who “she” was. A fellow prisoner, one whom Lotor had been allowed to bond with, perhaps?

“I see you’ve yet to listen to reason,” Haggar said. She clutched Lotor’s face between both hands and pressed a last kiss to Lotor’s forehead, headless of his snarls, before releasing him and standing. “Perhaps another night on the table and day as the Emperor’s spoils will change your mind. Enjoy your rest, my child. I’ve asked my druids not to put you through anything too taxing, tonight.”

Keith waited until the witch had exited the lab before pulling up Krolia’s contact in his comms. _I’m going in,_ he typed, before kicking out the vent covering and dropping into the room.

The covering hit the floor with a muffled clang, and Keith followed shortly after. Lotor’s head jerked in his direction, his pupils blown with terror, and Keith was quick to pull his helmet off. “Lotor, it’s me,” he whispered, hurrying towards the table.

“Keith,” Lotor rasped, his eyes wide. “Keith, what are you doing here? You have to get out –”

The door hissed opened, and Keith barely had to glance back to confirm it was Krolia. Lotor, for his part, went grey, his eyes darting from Keith to Krolia. “Keith,” he whispered frantically. “Keith, go, _leave me –”_

“Don’t worry, she’s a friend,” Keith said, examining the straps with narrowed eyes. “Do you know how to unfasten these?” he asked, without turning around.

Krolia was silent behind him, and Keith turned around. “Krolia?” he asked, meeting her eyes. She looked…

Why did he think she looked _devastated?_

The expression passed almost as soon as he laid eyes on her. Krolia clenched her jaw and shouldered past him. “There,” she said, flipping a switch. Most of the restraints blinked out of existence, and Krolia bodily lifted the bar from Lotor’s stomach and threw it to the floor, her shoulders tense as she moved. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Lotor bit out, before descending into a coughing fit. “Wait!” he hissed as Keith made to help him off the table. “Narti – we have to get Narti.”

Keith froze. Oh, no. Oh, no oh no oh no.

What had the druids _done_ to him?

“Lotor,” Keith said quietly, clasping one of Lotor’s hands and wrapping an arm under his shoulders, helping him to sit up. “Lotor, Narti’s dead, remember?”

_Unmoving, unbreathing, trickling green blood staining the metal floor –_

_“No,”_ Lotor half-moaned, leaning heavily against Keith. “No, she isn’t. I failed her, I failed her. Please, she’s in cell three, _trust me.”_

“I’ll check,” Krolia said abruptly. She spun on the ball of her foot and stalked towards the cells, leaving Keith alone with Lotor.

“I tried,” Lotor whispered as Keith helped maneuver him off the table. “I killed her. I left her on the cruiser to be turned to rubble with it.” He coughed, a dry, painful rasp. “But druids don’t let their subjects go. They retrieved her body. Brought her back.”

_“How?”_ Keith hissed, slinging Lotor’s arm more firmly over his shoulder.

“Quintessence,” Lotor managed to bite out. “They save some, from all their subjects. Used it to revive her.”

Lotor had begged Haggar to let someone else go. He couldn’t possibly have meant –

A cry of pain echoed in Keith’s head, something visceral and painful, almost strong enough to bring him to his knees, especially as Lotor’s own knees buckled. The presence would have been invasive, if it wasn’t so familiar.

Krolia turned the corner from the laboratory cellblock, half-carrying a figure dressed in the black prison jumpsuit, the purple prisoner shirt oddly draped and tied about her head, covering her face. “She won’t let me take this off,” Krolia said, gesturing towards the shirt. “You sure this is her?”

Keith stared, shocked, at a figure he never thought he’d see again. She was emaciated, and her once-powerful tail dragged on the ground, but her thoughts in his mind were unmistakable.

“Narti?” he whispered.

_Keith._ It was weak, but the thoughts were hers. _You’re here?_

“It’s her,” he said to Krolia, his voice faint.

Krolia’s lips turned down, her face grim. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll get them both out, then, but we need to go, _now.”_

* * *

They almost made it to the ship before confronting a snag in the plan, in the form of a wayward Major, loitering in the halls where he really shouldn’t be.

The major stared at Krolia in shock, his eyes roving from her and Narti to Keith and Lotor, then back again. “Warlord Krolia?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“Prisoner transfer,” Krolia said abruptly. “Haggar’s orders.”

The major frowned. “I thought the entire Command was to be informed if Prince – uh, that slave – was ever to be moved outside his normal routine?”

Krolia sighed. “Well, I was never that attached to this operation anyways,” she said. Keith had less than a tick to process before she’d shoved Narti towards him; he barely managed to catch her, her surprise coursing through his mind, as the Marmoran agent whipped out her gun and shot the major point-blank.

Keith stared blankly at her. “Did you just –”

“Not now,” Krolia said curtly. “Let’s get to your ship and get to your rendezvous point before anyone figures out these two are missing, or that one is dead,” she said, jerking her head at the major.

Keith nodded, and Krolia scooped Narti up in her arms before nodding at Keith to lead the way. Keith shifted his weight to better support Lotor. “You ready?” he asked quietly.

_“Please,”_ Lotor whispered, his voice thin.

The hangar was still empty – looked like Pidge’s hack was still holding up. Keith helped Lotor stumble along, up the steps and into the cockpit, Krolia and Narti close behind him.

“Are you coming with us?” Keith asked. He hadn’t anticipated bringing back the Blade – and Kolivan would be _livid_ if he did – but she had shot that Major…

“I am,” Krolia said, her voice brokering no argument. “Get us out of here. I’ll get these two settled in a cargo bay.”

Keith guessed that a cargo bay would be more comfortable than the cockpit floor. He nodded his assent, turning his attention to the controls.

Even the Green Lion couldn’t hold cloaking forever; it would have moved locations by now. As soon as he was certain he was out of range of Central Command, Keith sent out a hail, broadcasting at the frequency favored by the Castle ship.

Almost immediately, Allura answered the hail, her brow furrowed with worry. “Keith,” she said, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “Were you successful?”

Keith nodded. “Yes, Princess,” he said. He hesitated. “Um. We actually rescued another prisoner along with Lotor, and…” He sighed. “Might as well say it now – Kolivan’s agent was compromised. She’s heading back with us.”

Allura looked troubled. “Well, that explains why Kolivan excused himself shortly before you called,” she said. “Good work. I’m sending you the Green Lion’s new coordinates.”

Keith disconnected the audio and visual transmission, and input the new coordinates to autopilot as soon as they came in. It wasn’t the most responsible course of action, he knew – but after so many movements apart while Lotor suffered unfathomable torture, he _had_ to see his Prince.

And _Narti,_ he thought, horror and wonder mingling in equal parts in his chest. He couldn’t believe she was alive – but stars, he’d never seen her like that, or felt such pain from her. And for all the time that Lotor had spent at Central Command, the druids had had Narti for even longer.

_“– obligation to the mission,_ not _to your emotions, Krolia.”_

Keith paused, freezing just outside the small hallway that led to the ship’s twin cargo bays. He shouldn’t eavesdrop, he knew, but he was loathe to walk in on Krolia’s conversation with – yep, that voice was definitely Kolivan.

“Which is why I set up a safety net when I agreed to re-enter the field.” Krolia sounded _furious._ “One that you promised to uphold. You _lied_ to me, Kolivan.”

_“The agreement was that the Blade of Marmora would inform you if we were forced to retrieve him. We had no obligation to inform you if he joined the Empire.”_

“And I’m to assume he just somehow managed to join the Empire of his own volition? That somehow, the Blades didn’t know about it? Did he activate the frequency _I left with him, Kolivan?”_ Krolia shouted.

_“Krolia –”_

“No, Kolivan,” Krolia snapped. “No. You broke the terms of our agreement the moment you neglected to inform me when _my son_ was dragged into the Galra Empire instead of _safe on Earth_ where I left him!”

Wait, what?

Keith moved before he could stop himself, ducking around the corner, coming face-to-face with Krolia. The blood drained from the agent’s face, and she raised her wrist comm slightly. “We’ll talk later,” she said, not bothering to look down at the screen before ending the call.

Keith just stared. She was taller than him – much taller, like most galra. Their faces were similar, he realized, even if he didn’t think he looked much like her otherwise. She had markings, unlike him, her skin and fur both were lighter than his, and –

He didn’t want to continue noticing their differences, or worse, any other similarities.

“Keith,” Krolia began quietly.

He couldn’t deal with this now. “I’m going to check on Lotor and Narti,” he said, his voice thick as he pushed past her and made his way to the open cargo bay.

Narti was curled into a ball on one of the benches, and Lotor sat on the ground with his back against the wall, his eyes closed. They cracked open as Keith entered the bay, and Lotor’s lips turned up in a thin smile. “I can’t believe you came for me,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Keith knelt and reached for Lotor’s thin, wasted hands, curling them in his own. “Of course I did,” he said quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotor: Rescued! A whole bunch of new plot points and character interaction developments: Opened! Payoff for the "temporary character death" tag I added when Narti was killed: achieved, sort of! (Yes, I've been planning on bringing Narti back the whole time. Her role in the story was never supposed to end with her death.)
> 
> We've been in "canon is for suckers except for the parts that I like mode" for quite a while now, but now we're even more in that territory, imo.
> 
> Enter scene Krolia, and all the messy emotional drama that comes with finding your long-lost mother who abandoned you (however good her reasons) when you don't have a convenient two-year time skip on a space whale to solve all your problems. Someday, Keith will have a drama-free life. Maybe. In his dreams. On the other hand, in terms of mothers, Lotor has HAGGAR, so in comparison Keith's got a pretty sweet deal.


	49. Chapter Forty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith learns a little of what happened to Lotor and Narti.

With the ship still set to autopilot, Keith situated himself in the cargo hold with Lotor and Narti. Krolia could pilot in an emergency, he reasoned. He was needed here, with his friends – and he wasn’t entirely sure he had the courage to face Krolia again after what he’d overheard. Not yet. Not until he’d had a chance to wrap his mind around the concept of her _existence._

He settled on the floor with Lotor and gingerly pulled him into his side. Lotor went stiffly at first, but then he sank into the contact, minute tremors wracking his body as he leaned his head against Keith’s.

“How did you find me?” Lotor asked quietly. “I mean – I assume it was easy enough to guess that I was at Central Command, but you got into the _witch’s_ lab unscathed.” He turned his head slightly, and Keith leaned back to make eye contact.

“It was a joint effort,” Keith said. “Allura and Shiro helped form the plan, and the Blade of Marmora provided intelligence and support. Pidge and Hunk developed a map of Central Command, so finding you wasn’t hard when I knew where you were.”

Lotor shivered, but his lips quirked up in a tiny smile. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting a rescue,” he said. “Not one so swift, at least. I thought Allura, at least, might be reticent to help.”

Keith tightened his grip ever-so-slightly, gently squeezing Lotor’s side. “I wouldn’t have left you,” he said firmly.

“I assumed you’d want to try,” Lotor said. “But – not to underestimate you, but I was the personal prisoner of both Sendak and the witch. I didn’t think you’d be able to succeed.”

Keith swallowed hard. “Is that why you were trying to bargain with the witch?” he asked quietly.

Lotor sighed. “Of course you heard that,” he muttered, turning his gaze towards Narti. Keith followed, his own eyes landing on his impossibly-alive friend.

She’d curled in on herself, her hands pressed to her face, still covered by her prisoner’s shirt. A shaky wave of calm ran through Keith, her presence in his mind still familiar after all this time.

Calm that he didn’t believe for a single tick. “Narti?” he asked quietly.

_I’m fine._

“You most certainly are not,” Lotor bit out, bitter guilt lacing his voice. “Hopefully the Alteans have the technology to undo the druids’ work, but I never should have let you fall to them in the first place.”

_Don’t blame yourself. You held up your end of the bargain._ Carefully, Narti shifted, using her elbows to push herself to a sitting position. Her hands, Keith noted with worry, remained clutched to her face.

“What did they do to you?” Keith asked abruptly. “The Alteans have healing pods – that should fix whatever’s wrong with your face, right?”

“It’s not that simple,” Lotor said quietly, in tandem with the dulled sensation of Narti’s pain prodding at Keith’s mind.

_They finally succeeded with the experiments they used me for in the first place._ Her thoughts were miserable, Keith realized. _They successfully managed to integrate me with active optic nerves and senses. It’s very different than seeing through Kova’s eyes._

Keith stared at Narti, horrified. “That’s why you’re covering your face?” he demanded.

_To keep the light out, yes. Vision hurts._

Keith shuddered and turned his attention back to Lotor. “And you? What did they do to you?” he asked, panic slowly building in his chest.

Lotor reached out with a wasted hand and caught Keith’s wrist with a shuddering, unsteady grip. “I’m fine, Keith,” he said quietly. “They hadn’t slated me for any specific experiments, and it’s not the first time I’ve been… Well. I shouldn’t experience any lasting effects.”

Keith shook his head. “I’ll kill them,” he snarled quietly. “Starting with that blasted witch.”

Lotor’s expression turned grim. “If any of us will kill the witch,” he said darkly, “it will be _me._ She may seek to possess me all she wants – she is not my mother, and I am not _anything_ of hers.” He shook his head. “Ousting both her and Sendak from power, and seeing to their executions myself, is a course of action I will take great pleasure in when the time comes.”

In spite of himself, Keith smiled. “You killed one emperor – I’m sure Sendak will be easy in comparison,” he said quietly, leaning into Lotor.

_You two have finally stopped avoiding your obvious affections?_ In spite of everything, Narti seemed almost amused. _Good. I won’t be trading one form of torture for another._

Lotor exhaled as though exasperated, but he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Keith’s temple. Keith shivered at the contact and shifted, reaching with one hand for Lotor’s neck to pull him down into a proper kiss.

And then Lotor stilled as Keith’s hand came into contact with his neck. Keith froze, and carefully drew back his touch. “Lotor?” he asked quietly.

Lotor shuddered. “No – you’re fine,” he said, though his expression said he was anything but.

Keith gulped. “Did they do something to your neck?” he asked quietly.

Lotor hesitated, then sighed. “Nothing terribly heinous,” he said, extracting his arms from around Keith. He pulled down the high neck of his prison jumpsuit, revealing a dark shadow of bruising that wrapped entirely around the column of his neck. “Sendak is not known for his temper.”

The blood warmed in Keith’s veins, and he couldn’t quite hold back a growl. “Sendak did that to you?” he hissed.

Lotor shrugged. “He kept me chained by his throne,” he pointed out. “I was in easy reach whenever he received news he didn’t care for.”

Keith glowered at the bruise. “I hope you make it slow when you kill him,” he snarled.

“If time and circumstance permit, I just might,” Lotor said, his low voice promising violence.

The door to the cargo bay hissed open, and Keith stiffened. Krolia stood in the doorway staring directly ahead, her gaze averting when Keith looked into her face. “We’re two doboshes out from the Green Lion,” she said formally. “From there, it should take approximately one varga before we reconvene with the castle. I’ve contacted the Green Paladin and informed her to expect two additional passengers.”

Herself and Narti. Keith nodded. “Understood,” he said. His voice rang cold in his own ears, oddly antagonistic when compared to the blankness he felt looking at her.

She was his _mother._ Shouldn’t he feel something, to see her standing right before him?

“Keith.” His gaze snapped up, and Keith swallowed hard as he met her eyes, near-mirrors of his own. She was clearly galra enough to be considered pure-blooded, if she’d been allowed to rise through the main fleet, but her eyes did suggest that there was something else far back in her heritage – in Keith’s heritage.

He’d just assumed he’d inherited his eyes entirely from his father.

“Did you want something?” he asked, taking care to keep his voice neutral.

Krolia was quiet for several ticks. “I would like to talk with you, when we reach the Altean castle,” she said. “After I debrief Kolivan.”

Oh, stars. Her existence was strange and uncomfortable enough; what would they even have to talk about? How she abandoned him on Earth? How her precious Blades left him to rot within the bowels of the Empire, until Lotor recruited him?

“Fine,” Keith forced out. “Yeah. We’ll talk later.”

Krolia looked like she wanted to say something else, but in the end she simply nodded and crossed the cargo hold to help Narti to her feet. Keith rose and helped Lotor stand, arms straining slightly as he took on a good portion of Lotor’s weight.

“Is everything all right?” Lotor asked quietly. Not so quietly that Krolia didn’t hear, probably, Keith thought. “You seemed amiable with her before.”

Keith shook his head. “I’ll explain later,” he said softly.

Outside the ship, the tell-tale slide of metal-on-metal indicated that they had reached the Green Lion, and that the beast was opening its docking bay. Keith helped Lotor to the cockpit, then took over the controls to glide his ship inside the Lion’s belly.

Only a varga until he could see Lotor – and likely Narti – into a healing pod. Only a varga until they could begin to erase the damage this nightmare had caused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the idea for what the druids were doing with Narti before I even started actively writing this thing, and I am SO HAPPY that things played out so it could actually be included. The concept of gaining an entirely new sense that your brain isn't wired to naturally interpret is horrifying as far as I'm concerned, but experimental technology that would allow the galra to restore sight to soldiers with eye injuries, without requiring prosthetic eyes? Idk seems like a thing a war-mongering Empire might be interested in developing.
> 
> Keith and Lotor can now bond over their very-different but equally-valid mommy issues. (Lotor definitely has the worst mother of the two, but you know, still. I adore Krolia, but considering her leaving Keith made things even worse for him in this AU than it did in canon... Not the best choice.)


	50. Chapter Forty-Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Krolia have a talk. It's absolutely fine - she's just a stranger, not someone Keith has any feelings about.
> 
> Lotor emerges from cryo.

The white Altean cryosuits made Lotor look almost terrifyingly small, an effect not helped by his stillness as he hovered in the healing pod. In stasis with his eyes closed, he looked lifeless, as burnt out and ruined as the ends of his hair, which trailed around his jaw, barely reaching his chin.

No sooner had they exited the Green Lion with two unexpected passengers and explained the situation to Allura and Coran than Coran had whisked Narti away to the surgical med-bay to determine if the Castle ship had the technology to remove her new optic nerves. She’d need a pod too, the Altean had said, but not before they at least knew if the pods would make the druid’s experiments permanent.

So for now, Keith and Lotor were alone in the med-bay. Intellectually, Keith knew his presence didn’t actually change anything; Lotor was unconscious, and Keith couldn’t exactly make the healing pod work any faster. But the idea of letting Lotor leave his sight caused panic to well in his chest and the blood to freeze in his veins.

He’d been too far away to protect Lotor at the Kral Zera. He couldn’t let that happen again.

The med-bay door hissed open quietly. Keith glanced over on instinct, and stiffened as he caught sight of Krolia. She stood awkwardly just inside the door, staring at him with an expression of equal parts longing and devastation.

“I – Keith,” she said softly. “Do you have time to talk, now?”

Keith hesitated. Could he put her off? It wouldn’t be weird if he wanted to wait until Lotor was out of the pod, right?

On the other hand, he might as well get it over with.

“Yeah,” Keith said. “Yeah, we can talk – but I’m staying here. I’m not leaving Lotor,” he said, raising his chin defiantly.

Krolia’s expression flickered briefly. “Of course,” she said. She crossed the room, stopping a respectable distance from Keith, close enough for easy conversation but too far away to touch.

Good. She might be his mother, but she was still effectively a stranger.

Krolia exhaled and smoothed a hand over her face. “This is harder than I thought it would be,” she admitted, looking him square in the face. “Keith, I – I’m sorry.”

Keith leaned back against the pod and folded his arms across his chest. “For?”

Krolia sighed. “I don’t even know. Everything,” she said quietly. “I left you on Earth to protect you from the Empire. You were supposed to be there with your father. When you were old enough, he was going to tell you everything and let you decide whether you wanted to remain on Earth – and if you wanted to risk introducing yourself to Earth society – or if you wanted to contact the Blade of Marmora and be inducted as a member.” Her lips thinned, and her eyes narrowed. “You _never_ were supposed to end up in the hands of the Empire. Even if something happened – the emergency frequency should have been undetectable to Imperial ships.”

Keith snorted. “Well, it was,” he said, his voice flat.

“So you did activate it?” Krolia whispered. “When? How long have – have you been here, in space?”

Keith’s ears flicked back slightly, and he tightened his arms. “Twelve deca-phoebs, give or take,” he said coolly.

Krolia blanched, her face going grey. “That long?” she choked out. “But – you weren’t supposed to be told anything until you were eighteen –”

“Well, considering I was starving and _alone_ in that shack when Dad didn’t come home, I didn’t really have any options other than the emergency frequency,” Keith snapped. “Maybe that’s a contingency you should have planned for when you abandoned me on an alien planet where only one person even knew I existed!”

Distantly, he recognized the fire that burned through his veins; anger, and resentment, and disdain, all undercut with the memory of being a frightened child, of staring up in terror at the huge interlopers who burst into his home, shouting in a language he didn’t understand before seizing him roughly and hauling him away from everything he’d ever known.

Krolia’s eyes glistened. “So your father is… dead?” she asked quietly.

Keith shrugged. “Probably. Who knows, maybe he found some “cause” that was more important than looking after his half-alien kid,” he said coldly. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Krolia swallowed hard, but inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Clearly, I made a mistake – the worst mistake possible,” she said quietly. “I understand if you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Keith hissed. “You’re a stranger. Kinda hard to hate someone who means nothing to me.”

Krolia closed her eyes, and Keith steadfastly ignored the clench in his gut, the odd feeling that teetered between remorse and vindication.

“And for all you apologies, for me ending up with the Empire? Save them,” he found himself saying. He turned his head to look at the pod behind him, at Lotor’s still form. “If I hadn’t ended up with the Empire, I’d never have met Lotor. And he means more to me than anything Earth or the Blade of Marmora could offer.”

“You don’t know that,” Krolia murmured.

“I do,” Keith said, his voice beginning to shake. “Earth was so _lonely,_ Krolia. Sure, I wasn’t getting beat on and attacked like I did at boot camp, but I spent almost all my time alone. Dad couldn’t be there often, and characters in books aren’t real people. And the Blade of Marmora? What _exactly_ has your organization accomplished?” he spat.

Krolia stiffened, her shoulders drawing up minutely. She opened her eyes and met Keith’s gaze head-on. “I understand your negative opinion of the Blades,” she said. “I doubt I could convince you of the good we’ve done. Not when you’ve been so hurt by our inaction.”

Keith opened his mouth to reply, but the words weren’t there. “What was so important,” he asked finally, his voice cracking, “that you had to leave me behind? That you couldn’t at least take me with you?”

Pressure was beginning to well up behind his eyes, but there was no way Keith would let himself cry in front of this woman.

“I wanted to – stars, Keith, I wanted to,” Krolia said. “But I was assigned a deep cover mission, and I’d already put off returning for so long. I couldn’t take you with me, and our bases aren’t exactly designed to house and raise children. Your father and I thought it was the best option.”

Keith swallowed down the lump in his throat. “It was,” he rasped. “Not for the reasons you thought. But because Lotor won’t give up. He _will_ take the throne, he _will_ reform the Empire, and he _will_ make the universe a better place. And I’ll have been there helping him make it happen. So thank you, Krolia. Abandoning me was the best thing you’ve ever done.”

The sheen in Krolia’s eyes increased, and she smoothed a hand over her face. “I understand,” she said softly. “I – I want to fix things between us, Keith. When Kolivan didn’t contact me when you were eighteen, I assumed you’d chosen to stay on Earth, and I’d never see you again. I’d come to terms with it, but then when we were on that mission and I realized who you are…” She paused, then shook her head. “But I won’t push you. If you don’t want anything to do with me, I’ll understand.”

Keith turned away, fighting to keep from trembling. “I don’t know if I want anything to do with you,” he said quietly. “You’re a stranger. I don’t _know_ you.” He stared into the pod, desperately wishing that Lotor wasn’t still locked inside, that he could seek comfort – and even advice – from his prince.

He shivered as the memory of Haggar in her lab rose, her hands crawling all over Lotor’s face while he was strapped in place, unable to flee, incapable of rejecting her. Krolia, at least, had remained at a distance, and hadn’t tried to touch him or push past his boundaries.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally without looking back.

“Thank you,” Krolia said, her voice soft. “I’ll be staying temporarily in the Castle until I’ve sorted things out with Kolivan. I’m sure that Coran can point you in my direction if you wish to speak with me.”

Keith didn’t say anything, just inclined his head. The sound of footsteps was loud in his ears, and he waited until the telltale sound of the doors opening and shutting passed before leaning forward to press his forehead against the class of the healing pod.

“I wish you were awake,” Keith murmured to Lotor’s still form. “I’ve missed you. Now you’re back, but so much is happening. Everything feels…”

Overwhelming? Out-of-control? Keith wasn’t sure the exact word to describe it.

Lotor, silent and unmoving in the pod, didn’t answer.

* * *

Nearly a quintant passed before Lotor emerged from the pod. Keith was waiting when the door hissed open, his arms outstretched to catch Lotor as the prince stumbled forward, his eyes flying open as he let out a shout of alarm.

“Lotor – hey, hey, it’s okay,” Keith said as Lotor sprang backwards upon contact, his eyes wild and darting around the room.

“Where –” Lotor panted, uncharacteristically vulnerable, “– the Altean ship?” His eyes landed on Keith, and he stilled. “It wasn’t a dream. Or…” He paused, frowning. “Or a mental trick, played by the druids.” His brow furrowed, suspicion crossing his face.

“They do that a lot?” Keith asked, still holding out his hands, placating.

Lotor stiffened slightly. “I suppose for my own sanity, I’ll assume this is real and I am neither mad nor under druidic influence,” he said.

Keith offered him a tiny smile. “Does that mean I can hold you?” he asked.

He’d barely finished speaking before Lotor moved, crossing the space between them with two long steps and engulfing Keith in his arms, crushing him to his chest. A startled wheeze escaped Keith’s lungs, and he struggled to free his arms enough to wrap them around Lotor and hold him tightly in turn.

“We should get you back to our room,” Keith said. “Find some clothes that fit you that aren’t prison clothes or medical-wear.”

Lotor simply buried his face in Keith’s hair. “We should,” he agreed, warm breath tickling Keith’s scalp.

Still, they allowed themselves a few doboshes of quiet before moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Someday I will write a protagonist who clearly communicates their emotions and has a healthy relationship with their feelings and mental state," I say, lying to myself, as I write Keith refusing to admit how badly being abandoned by his mother hurt him. (I love Krolia. I really do. She's actually one of my favorite characters in the entire show! Just... You know... Leaving your child generally doesn't have a good effect on their mental health, even if it doesn't result in them getting kidnapped and pressed into the military of an evil empire.)
> 
> Oh well, at least Lotor's been physically healed! And what's a little mental trauma here and there, right? Keith's about two seconds away from handcuffing himself to Lotor so he can always keep an eye on him, probably.


	51. Chapter Fifty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lotor rest.
> 
> Lance makes a surprise offer.

The entire time Lotor had been gone, their bare little room had felt cavernous and empty. Lotor’s presence filled the room, allowing the last remaining threads of tension and terror to uncoil in Keith’s chest. He faced away as Lotor changed from his cryosuit into a set of clothing Coran had provided from storage, determined to allow Lotor the privacy he’d been stripped of in captivity.

“I’m decent now, Keith,” Lotor said as the soft whisper of rustling clothing stopped. “You can turn around.”

Keith did, and tried not to melt at the sight. The clothes weren’t anything particularly spectacular – a high-necked sleeveless grey tunic and simple black pants – but after the prison rags and medical suit, it was a welcome change. Keith stepped forward, into Lotor’s space, and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

“You’re awfully tactile today,” Lotor said, even as he folded Keith into his arms.

“Do you want me to stop?” Keith asked quietly.

Lotor went quiet. “No,” he said seriously, “but I would rather like to sit. Embarrassing as it is, I’m not in peak condition, and I’ve grown unaccustomed to standing for long periods of time.”

Because he’d spent his time forced to kneel by the throne, or strapped to a table in the witch’s lab. Keith allowed a protective growl to leave his throat, and stepped back so they could better maneuver onto the bed.

Lotor leaned into Keith’s side and closed his eyes. “This still doesn’t feel real,” he said, his words tinged with a sort of longing.  

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Keith asked quietly.

Lotor shook his head. “The witch rarely maintains illusions longer than a few vargas. That I haven’t woken in her lab indicates that this is no illusion. I simply have to fully realize that you succeeded in freeing me despite the odds.”

Keith swallowed a lump in his throat and wrapped his arm around Lotor’s shoulders. He didn’t really know what to say to that.

Eventually, some of the residual tension left Lotor’s body and he slumped, boneless, against Keith. Keith squeezed his shoulder gently. “Do you want to sleep?” he asked.

Lotor shook his head. “My sleep has been troubled, as of late,” he said, his voice dry. “I’ve grown accustomed to going without.”

Keith scowled and shifted slightly, wriggling his position until he could look Lotor directly in the face. “That means you need sleep even more than usual,” he pointed out.

“I’m aware. It’s more a doubt that I will be able to so much as drift off, and I’ve had enough of being alone with nothing but my thoughts,” Lotor said. “I’m not saying I’m in any condition to, say, run a battle simulation – I just expect that should I try to sleep now, I will be unsuccessful.”

Keith pursed his lips. “I could read to you?” he suggested tentatively. “That way you can lie down and get some rest, but you don’t have to be alone.”

A tired smile crossed Lotor’s lips. “I suppose that’s acceptable,” he said. “We could continue your – what was it called – Harry Otter?”

“Close enough,” Keith said. “That, if you’d like – or we could pick something else.”

Lotor shook his head. “Whatever you choose is fine,” he said. He pushed away from the wall and twisted, shifting to a fully horizontal position on his side and reaching for a pillow, which he wrapped in his long arms.

Emotion swelled in Keith’s chest, and he leaned down to press a kiss to Lotor’s temple. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, rising and crossing the room to retrieve his data-pad.

Data-pad in hand, he settled down next to Lotor, who had half-buried his face in the pillow. Keith let out a little laugh and opened the library function. He hadn’t really touched the device since Lotor had been taken, and Harry Potter opened to the exact point where they’d left off before. Keith allowed his free hand to card absently through Lotor’s choppy hair, his fingers brushing gently over Lotor’s scalp.

Less than a varga after Keith had begun reading, Lotor’s breaths had evened out to the deep, steady rhythm of one asleep. Keith set the data pad aside and shifted to lie down beside Lotor. It was instinct to curl into his warmth, draping a protective arm over Lotor’s side. He buried his face in Lotor’s chest and took a deep breath. He smelled like clean clothing and the sterile medbay, but it was better than the scent of sweat and blood that had clung to him back in the lab.

Keith closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift, at peace with the most important person in his world beside him.

A peace that was broken only a few vargas later when he found himself falling, shoved _hard._ Keith hit the floor with a grunt and leapt to his feet, his claws unsheathing as he readied himself for a fight. Out of habit, he reached for his sword, stored by the bed –

In the dim light of the room, Lotor stared at him like a wild thing, his eyes huge and untamed, fangs bared in a snarl, claws unsheathed. Keith cursed and drew his hand back. He should have anticipated something like this might happen. “Lotor,” he said quietly.

“Stay back,” Lotor hissed. “Where am I? Where have you taken me?”

Rather than respond verbally, Keith activated the lights, squinting against the harsh wave of white illuminating the room.

Lotor flinched back, blinking rapidly. “Oh,” he said after a short pause. “Oh, Keith, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to throw you.”

Keith inclined his head, nausea welling in his gut. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “You didn’t know it was me.”

Lotor laughed humorlessly. “I don’t know what I was thinking, exactly,” he said. “I woke up somewhere unexpected, in bed with another person – I panicked.”

Keith swallowed hard. He didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to _know._ But… “Did – did that happen, while they had you?” he asked.

“Waking somewhere unfamiliar? On occasion,” Lotor said, his eyes downcast.

“I meant –” Keith hesitated, his insides churning with dread. “In a bed. With – someone.” He clenched his fists, his claws digging into his palms.

Lotor lifted his head, and Keith could see the realization click into place. His eyes widened, and he blanched. “No – no, Keith, not what you’re thinking,” he said hastily. “No, I at least was spared _that_ indignity.” He crossed his arms across his chest, folding over slightly. “Not that it never crossed my mind to fear it. But no – I was treated as a trophy or an experiment-to-be. Never a bed-warmer.”

Keith exhaled, relaxing slightly. “Good,” he said, his voice shaking. “I mean – not that anything they did was _good –”_

“I know what you meant, Keith,” Lotor said quietly. He unfolded and crossed the scant distance between them, reaching out to rest a hand on Keith’s shoulder. He squeezed gently, and Keith nearly melted from the warm pressure. “I should have anticipated nightmares,” Lotor mused.

“And I should have figured out that you might not want to share a bed,” Keith replied.

“Want has nothing to do with it,” Lotor said dryly. “I don’t think I’ve been subtle that I enjoy physical contact with you, Keith. But I don’t wish to hurt you if I wake up confused again.”

Keith sighed. After his abrupt awakening, he didn’t think he’d be getting much more sleep. “We can figure it out for the next sleep cycle,” he said. “I might as well stay up.”

“Agreed,” Lotor said.

Keith gave him a sharp look. _“You_ should get some more rest,” he said.

Lotor raised his eyebrows. “That’s not likely to happen,” he said. “What time is it?”

Keith’s data-pad was synched to the castle’s internal timekeeping. He glanced at the pad and grimaced. “Just after 0400 vargas,” he said.

“That’s an acceptable time to be awake,” Lotor volunteered. “And even discounting my time in the pod, I – it’s been a while since I’ve eaten. I’d rather take a trip to the kitchen than futilely attempt to go back to sleep.”

Keith’s eyes widened, and he mentally slapped himself. “I didn’t even think about that,” he breathed. ”Yeah – come on, let’s go get you some food.”

* * *

Keith wasn’t surprised when Allura summoned them all to the bridge for a full debrief later that day. Lotor attended, despite Keith’s protests that he should try to get some more rest, with the infuriatingly valid reason that he might be needed to provide details from his imprisonment.

The debrief didn’t really contain anything new to Keith. Now that Lotor was back, they would resume in assisting Voltron with their work. The medbay’s surgical center had provided the necessary tools and procedures to remove Narti’s optic nerves, and she’d be spending the next few quintants in a pod. Krolia would be remaining on the castle for the foreseeable future – and from the way Allura’s eyes cut to Keith when she made the announcement, she’d been made aware of their kinship.

Allura finally called the end of the debrief, and Keith was more than ready to grab Lotor and escape back to their room, only to be stalled as a particular lanky figure managed to cut himself and Lotor off at the door.

Ugh, Lance. “You want something?” Keith said – very patiently, he might add.

Lance narrowed his eyes. “It’ll be quick,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s about your hair,” he added, looking Lotor over with appraising eyes.

Lotor stiffened slightly. “It was burnt off,” he said, his voice cool. “Unfortunate, but unavoidable.”

Keith scowled and reached for Lotor’s hand.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Lance said. “Look, not to brag, but I used to cut my sister Veronica’s hair sometimes, if she forgot to make an appointment to get it done professionally before it got out of regulation. Which she did, a lot. I’m pretty good at it.”

Keith blinked – that wasn’t what he’d expected.

Lotor looked down at Lance and raised a single eyebrow. “You’re offering me… a haircut?” he asked.

“I mean, unless the whole “burnt ends, shaggy cut” look is the new Galra fashion, yeah,” Lance said. He fidgeted. “Look, Allura and Shiro came up with the strategy to get you out, and Pidge and Hunk built the tech to find you. I’m no good at that stuff, so I’ve been twiddling my thumbs like an idiot for weeks – uh, movements. But I can at least give you a quiznacking haircut now that you’re back. If you want one.”

Keith stared at Lance. Yeah, okay, despite Allura’s insistence that Lance was helping in the effort to find Lotor, he’d privately thought the red paladin was useless through the whole process. He’d just never expected that Lance would feel the same way about himself.

Or that he’d offer to make it up with a _haircut._

“I… Suppose it’s preferable to leaving my hair in its current state,” Lotor said slowly.

“Cool,” Lance said, making some weird gesture with his hands. “We can do it now, if you’re free. You want a haircut too, mullet?”

It took Keith a few ticks to realize Lance was addressing him. “No – mullet? _What?”_

“Your haircut, it’s a mullet,” Lance said seriously. “I know galra live like, a long time, but are you _literally_ from the nineteen-eighties?”

Keith stared at him for a long moment. “Don’t touch my hair,” he said finally.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Lance said dismissively. “But seriously – whenever’s good for you, uh, Lotor. Prince Lotor? Just Lotor?”

“I don’t believe my former title applies anymore,” Lotor said dryly. “Anything is a step up from being called ‘slave.’”

Keith winced, and was surprised to see Lance do the same. “Yeah, nope, that’s pretty terrible,” he said.

“And I suppose we may as well do this now, if I’m not interrupting your paladin duties,” Lotor said.

Lance snorted. “Are you kidding? If anything, this gives me a great excuse if Coran tries to nab me and make me do actual _work,”_ he said jokingly. “Come on, I’ve got scissors in my room.”

And yeah, he wasn’t going to let Lance touch his hair, but he also wasn’t going to let Lotor out of his sight. Still slightly bewildered, Keith followed Lance and his prince – because Lotor would only stop being his prince when he became his Emperor – through the halls to the residential section of the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotor may have been rescued, but he's still got to deal with some good old-fashioned emotional trauma.
> 
> I really wonder how Lance and Lotor would have interacted in canon if Lotor hadn't displayed interest in Allura. Probably much less hostile, I'd assume. So here, have a version of Lance that's friendly enough to be like "your life has been terrible and now your hair's messed up, I can fix one of those things."


	52. Chapter Fifty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gives Lotor a haircut. Lotor learns that Krolia is Keith's mother, and has some advice for Keith.

“There,” Lance said, setting his scissors down and passing Lotor some sort of hand-held mirror. “Tell me if that’s okay.”

Watching Lance work had been tense at first, but Keith had to admit, he wasn’t lying about his skill at cutting hair. He’d cropped the sides and back of Lotor’s hair short, but left the top longer – almost like a modified version of Shiro’s haircut. It was a far cry from Lotor’s former flowing tresses, but immensely preferable to the burnt, ragged mess it had been less than a varga ago.

Lotor narrowed his eyes at the mirror and regarded his own appearance. “You’re good at this,” he said. “This is a marked improvement.”

Lance grinned. “I mean, honestly, just cutting off the ends helped a _lot,”_ he said. “But this isn’t bad, and it shouldn’t look too weird in the midway process if you want to grow it out again. You won’t end up with an awkward mullet or anything.” He tossed Keith a pointed look. “You’re _sure_ you don’t want me to do something about all that?” he asked.

Keith still wasn’t sure exactly what a mullet was, other than an Earth style that his own hair – apparently – resembled. “I like my hair like this,” he said defensively.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Aliens,” he muttered. “How did you grow up on Earth and end up with no sense of style?”

Keith folded his arms across his chest. “I lived in a shack with one other person, and was taken by the Galra when I was twelve. Sorry I didn’t end up familiar with all of Earth culture.”

Lance’s face fell at that. “Dude, that is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said, shaking his head. “Okay, fine, you can keep your dumb haircut. I can’t even make fun of it anymore.” He turned back to Lotor. “Anything you want changed about yours?” he asked.

Lotor shook his head. “I appreciate your help, paladin,” he said.

“Sure, no problem. Thanks for the excuse to practice so I don’t lose my edge,” the red paladin said, and offered an overdramatic yet charming wink.

Keith scowled.

* * *

Personally, Keith wouldn’t have minded stealing Lotor away and sequestering him in their room for the rest of the quintant. After spending so long trying to develop a plan to rescue the prince, he just wanted to rest and enjoy the company of the man he loved. Keith had never considered himself an idle man, but just this once, he would have welcomed a break.

Still, he couldn’t blame Lotor for suggesting that they instead make their way to the training deck. “I have been inactive and wasting away for far too long,” he said when Keith questioned the whether it was wise for him to start training again so soon.

“Which is why you shouldn’t push yourself.”

Lotor shook his head. “I won’t,” he said. “Stretching and light exercise only – you have my word. Sitting around doing nothing won’t help myself – or the universe.”

He was right, even if Keith didn’t want to admit it. “Fine,” he said. “No sparring though,” he added.

Lotor rolled his eyes fondly. “This is not the first time I’ve had to recover from a long period of forced inactivity,” he said, “though it is admittedly the most extreme. Still. I know how to care for myself.”

The training deck, however, was not unoccupied. Keith stilled as the doors hissed open, right as Krolia swiped the head clean off the last of three Altean gladiators, a strange blade gleaming in her hand. Her eyes went wide as she registered Keith’s presence, and she turned away hurriedly.

“Sorry to intrude,” Lotor called, stepping through the doors. “Krolia, was it?”

Keith gave himself a mental shake and followed Lotor into the room.

“You’re not intruding,” Krolia said stiffly. Her blade shifted in her hand, shrinking in size from a full sword to a small, familiar looking knife.

A knife identical to the one she’d left with Keith on Earth – the one the Galra had taken from him, when they took him away.

“I’ll just… Leave you two to it,” she said. She holstered the knife at her side and crossed the room swiftly, staring deliberately ahead.

Keith wasn’t sure if he preferred that – her refusal to acknowledge his presence – to the possibility of her seeking him out.

“All right, I’m missing something.” Lotor’s voice cut firmly through Keith’s thoughts, and he turned his attention to his prince. “When you two rescued me, you seemed to be on good enough terms. Now, suddenly, you’re cold towards each other. Did you merely put aside differences for the sake of the mission?”

It would have to come out eventually. Keith sighed. “You know how, when we first met, I told you my mother was a traitor to the Empire?” he asked quietly.

Lotor was silent for a long moment. “Krolia is your mother,” he said quietly. “I should have seen the resemblance in your features.”

Keith snorted. “It’s not like I look like her,” he said. “She’s got markings, and I guess I got some grandparent’s skin and hair, or something. Sure didn’t come from my dad.”

He hadn’t realized how tense he was until Lotor’s hand came down gently on his shoulder. He flinched, drawing back almost on instinct, but Lotor didn’t let go. “You didn’t know who she was until after the mission,” he observed.

Keith shook his head. “It’s stupid,” he said. “I know _why_ she left me on Earth. The Empire isn’t kind to hybrids. And she thought I was still there – she didn’t know the Empire had me. And if she hadn’t left me on Earth, I’d never have met you – and I can’t stand the thought of that.” He sighed. “It’s not a big deal. She’s just some stranger – she doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Lotor tugged Keith forward gently and embraced him. Keith allowed himself to relax into the contact, but then Lotor pulled back, and gestured for Keith to sit with him on the floor. Keith settled cross-legged across from Lotor, staring at the ground.

“I think she does mean something to you,” Lotor said softly. “A mother leaving – that can hurt to your core. Whether she left for good reason, or is still physically there but mentally a different person – of course your feelings towards her are complicated. But if she didn’t mean anything to you, you wouldn’t have frozen at the sight of her.”

Keith shook his head. “I don’t _know_ her,” he said.

“And that’s part of the problem. A child should know their mother, and the other way around.” Lotor laid a hand over Keith’s knee and squeezed gently. “Have you spoken with her about this?” he asked.

“Yeah. While you were in the pod,” Keith said quietly.

Lotor inclined his head. “And?” he asked.

Keith sighed. “She said she wants to fix things between us,” he said quietly. “But I… I just don’t know. She said it’s up to me, and I just don’t know.”

Lotor was silent for a long moment. “Our mothers are hardly similar,” he said finally. “But I’ll admit – there are times when I miss mine. My _true_ mother, not the abomination that she became.” He exhaled. “I may be biased, but I should hate to see you allow the past to keep you from getting to know your own. If she truly wants to know you as your own person, and not possess you or force the relationship she thinks you should have on you – does it hurt to give her a chance?”

Well, when he put it _that_ way… “You’re right,” Keith said. “I’ll give her a chance.”

Lotor smiled. “I’m glad,” he said. “Now – training?”

Grateful for the subject change, Keith leveled a mock-glare at Lotor. _“Light_ training,” he reminded him, clamoring to his feet.

“But of course,” Lotor said, gracefully shifting so his legs were stretched out before him and bending to touch his toes. Keith took a moment to admire the view, before backing away to give him space and settling into stretches of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter because I had dinner with family, and they managed to keep me over a lot longer than I'd anticipated. If I'd known they'd try to keep me past eight, I'd have finished and posted the chapter before going over.
> 
> Enjoy some calm-before-the-plot. There's only two major planned story arcs left in the fic, and the next one should be coming up pretty soon (depending on how much I decide to drag out the inter-character interactions before Plot Happens). Not to say that the end is near, exactly - I've got no idea how long it'll take to resolve these arcs, and of course Keith and Lotor have to deepen their relationship and fall even more grossly in love in the meantime. But the home stretch is, while not exactly NEAR, within my sights as the author. So let's procrastinate the plot by having Keith and Lotor talk about their Mommy Issues(TM) and have surprisingly nice interactions with the paladins.
> 
> Anyways. Who's ready to be emotionally decimated by season 8?!


	53. Chapter Fifty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narti comes out of the healing pod.
> 
> The castle receives an unexpected hail.

Narti came out of the pod the next day.

Lotor was there to catch her, while Keith stood to the side, warmth and fondness and borderline-disbelieving _relief_ seeping through him as he gazed upon his friend. Narti shook her head, disoriented, as the staggered to her feet.

_I’m glad_ that’s _gone. How do you handle receiving visual input all the time?_

Keith burst out laughing. “Good to have you back, Narti,” he said, stepping forward and clapping her warmly on the shoulder.

_Glad to be anywhere other than the witch’s lab._ Relief underlay the warmth in Narti’s thoughts, and Keith grinned fondly.

“I’m sorry, Narti,” Lotor said quietly.

Narti extracted herself from Lotor’s hold. _You did nothing wrong, and you have nothing to apologize for._ She paused. _Where exactly are we, anyway?_

Keith blinked – of course, Lotor knew where they were headed after the rescue, but Narti had no way of knowing their arrangement.

“We’re with the paladins of Voltron, aboard their ship,” Lotor said.

_Can we trust them?_

Lotor looked around the med-bay, at the inactive pods and the gleaming walls. “Yes,” he said finally. “We had a rough start to our alliance, but I believe we can.”

* * *

Keith and Lotor were situated at the side of the bridge when an alert sounded, an incoming transmission beeping urgently.

“That’s not one of ours,” Allura said, frowning as she stared at the alert. “It’s not from the Coalition, or the Blade of Marmora.”

“Should we answer it?” Pidge asked from the other side of the bridge, her brow furrowing.

“It could be a distress call,” Allura said. She hesitated, then accepted the hail.

Keith felt Lotor go stone-still beside him as the screen appeared, filling with a familiar face – the face of the witch. Keith sucked in a sharp breath; on the other side of the bridge, the paladins tensed, Lance uttering a soft “oh, quiznack.”

_“Paladins of Voltron,”_ the witch said, her low voice reverberating across the room. Keith clenched his teeth as he took in her visage, as well as Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid, standing behind her. _“You’ve stolen something of mine. Return him, lest I be forced to come after you and bring down the full force of the Galra Empire to retrieve him.”_

For her part, Allura stood tall, her face impassive. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” she said coldly.

_“Return to me my son, Lotor,”_ the witch hissed. _“I know you’re the ones who took him from me. Surrender him without a fight, and I will allow you to leave unharmed. Continue to keep him from me, and I will track you down with all the forces the Galra Empire has to offer.”_

“As if the Galra aren’t already looking for us,” Allura retorted furiously.

Quietly, Keith tapped his communicator, firing off a quick message to Narti. He rose and stepped into view of the screen, glaring at the witch. “You can’t have him,” he snarled, his claws unsheathing.

_“I am not speaking to you, half-breed,”_ the witch said. _“Princess Allura,”_ she said, her words curling poisonously as she spoke. _“Examine your priorities. You have no use for my son. Hand him over, and I’ll even ensure the Emperor turns his attention away from Voltron for a time.”_

Keith cleared his throat, his heart racing. “Do you want to mention he’s not the only person we stole from you?” he asked, his pulse pounding in his ears. This was a gamble, but the witch’s hail gave an unexpected opportunity.

The witch narrowed her eyes. _“I will be in contact to discuss terms,”_ she said. _“General Acxa, end communications.”_

Keith cursed internally. “Acxa, wait!” he shouted. “Don’t listen to the witch – hear me out!”

_“Now, General Acxa.”_

Acxa moved towards the communications array – now or never. “Narti’s alive!” he blurted out. “The witch had her!”

Acxa froze, her hand hanging comically in front of her as she stared at him.

_“General Acxa, end communications before I have you disciplined for insubordination!”_ the witch snarled.

“I sent her a message, and she should be on her way to the bridge. Stay on the line – I can prove she’s alive,” Keith said desperately.

Acxa turned away from the communications array. _“Is this true?”_ she demanded, her hand straying to her blaster. _“Did you have Narti this whole –”_

The witch’s hand snapped upwards, blasting forth lightning. Ice curled in Keith’s gut as Acxa screamed, electricity enveloping her form.

_“Acxa!”_ Zethrid bellowed, charging at the witch.

Keith barely heard the doors to the bridge hiss open, staring intently at the viewscreen. He felt, more than saw, Narti come to a halt beside him, watching as Ezor also entered the fray, his three former companions joining forces to attack the witch.

_I got your communication. What’s going on?_

“It appears that Keith has gotten our former comrades to turn on the witch.” Keith jumped slightly – he hadn’t noticed Lotor coming up beside him.

The witch vanished from the screen, a puff of loose smoke the only thing left behind. She could teleport? Keith wasn’t sure why that surprised him – she was a witch after all.

_“Narti,”_ Ezor whispered, staring at the screen. _“It’s really you?”_

Acxa and Zethrid also stared, Zethrid going so far as to reach for the screen.

Finally, Acxa shook her head and cleared her throat. _“Paladins of Voltron,”_ she said.

Allura straightened. “Yes?” she asked politely, standing poised before the viewscreen.

_“I would like to discuss terms of surrender.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is a bit late and also not my best work - I was emotionally destroyed by season 8, which kinda affected, well, everything. Anyways. I might go back and edit this, because it's really not my best work - which is a shame, because I've had the concept for this chapter for months now.
> 
> Anyways! I can't believe the show's over. Thank all heck for fanfiction, right?


	54. Chapter Fifty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith visits the generals in the brig.

Despite being the one to convince his former companions to stand down, it was several quintants before Keith could bring himself to visit Ezor, Zethrid, and Acxa in the brig.

He wasn’t sure if Narti went to see them. Allura and Shiro did, primarily to question them for information; the paladins had escorted them to the brig post-surrender, and as far as Keith was aware, Coran was in charge of their meals.

Lotor made no mention of seeing them, though he and Keith did take a trip to the hangar to confirm that the generals had, as promised, surrendered the second comet ship to the Paladins. It sat in the bay, alongside the ship Lotor had fled in all that time ago.

Technically, both ships belonged to the paladins now, per their terms of surrender. Keith wondered if Lotor would even bother completing the third. Once they had the inter-reality gate up and working, Voltron itself would be able to access the quintessence field.

Of course, that left the matter of completing an actually functioning gate. Lotor hadn’t mentioned continuing construction since the disastrous failure right before the others betrayed them. Keith knew it was still a priority – Lotor had made that clear when he imparted his plans to Keith before being handed over to Zarkon. But then they’d been caught up with the Kral Zera, and the fallout from that, and Lotor hadn’t brought it up since.

Keith wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Lotor had always been so driven; now – while Keith was glad to spend time helping Lotor regain his physical capabilities and exploring their relationship in private – Keith couldn’t help but wonder if the prince was giving way to despair.

What had _happened_ to him at Central Command? Lotor wasn’t exactly forthcoming with details. Keith knew he’d spent time chained at Sendak’s throne and had suffered at the hands of the witch, but that was nothing but vague, basic knowledge.

Which is why, nearly a movement after the arrival of their unexpected guests, Keith found himself in the elevator, headed towards the brig.

It wasn’t a pleasant ride. He kept instinctively looking behind him for the guard at his back, a bayard aimed at his vulnerable spine by an untrusting paladin. As relatively inoffensive as the paladins were now that they were allied, they _had_ been his jailors. And here he was, returning to his prison – his own former cell – of his own volition.

The elevator doors hissed open, and Keith strode down the catwalk, his shoulders squared, each step purposeful. The cell had been small enough for himself and Lotor; Ezor’s, Acxa’s, and Zethrid’s combined bulk dominated the space, made even smaller by the inclusion of a wide cot. Which, he supposed, made sense – he and Lotor had barely fit together on the small bed; no way would it hold the three of them.

All three of them froze as he approached; Zethrid and Acxa from where they’d been sitting on the bed, holding each other, and Ezor from her position on the floor, legs spread in the splits.

Tension mounted in the increasing silence. Keith folded his arms across his chest and glared at them, not bothering to mask the hurt from his expression. They’d _betrayed_ him – he wasn’t going to hold back and pretend to be unaffected.

For all her toughness, Zethrid broke first. “Keith,” she said quietly, gently pulling her arm from Acxa’s waist and climbing to her feet. Acxa and Ezor were quick to follow. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Keith scowled. “We didn’t exactly part on friendly terms,” he pointed out.

“Yeah. Fair,” Zethrid said, inclining her head. Her face twisted, an expression akin to shame painted across her features. “Guess we all ended up in the same place anyways.”

“I know words have little value without action,” Acxa said softly. “But I’m sorry. _We’re_ sorry.”

Anger coiled tightly in Keith’s chest, even as his stomach twisted at the hurt look on her face – on all their faces. They didn’t _get_ to be the ones hurt, a part of him thought furiously. They were the ones who left – their guilt over it was meaningless!

But at the same time… He’d lived for four years with them. He knew them more intimately than he’d known anyone – even his father. Maybe even _Lotor,_ who despite their closeness guarded himself more deeply than anyone Keith had ever met.

And it hurt to see them so remorseful.

“I can’t forgive you,” he said, his voice thinner than he’d like. “Not yet.” He took a deep breath. “What happened to Lotor at Central Command? I need to know.”

Zethrid stiffened, Ezor dropped her head, and Acxa paled, her eyes widening.

“He won’t tell me details,” Keith said. “But he has nightmares, and he’s been – off. Not himself, not really.”

The tense silence lingered for a long moment.

“They only kept him in the public eye when Sendak was receiving visitors in the Throne Room,” Ezor said quietly. “He was originally in a cell. Acxa visited him once. But then the witch started taking him, and we don’t know what she did to him.”

Keith turned his gaze to Acxa. She met his eyes dead-on, straightforward as always, even as her own eyes glistened. “I shouldn’t have left him there,” she admitted. “It was after he was whipped. I assume you saw that.”

Keith offered a minute nod, his stomach churning. Not that he’d admit it, but he’d had more than his own share of nightmares regarding that recording, Lotor’s wrecked voice begging for mercy from his masters haunting his dreams.

Acxa took a deep breath. “I brought him a salve. I didn’t want him to suffer with no reprieve, even after – everything,” she said quietly. “But I was so _angry._ Keith, he _killed_ Narti. I couldn’t look at him without seeing her body. I thought maybe it was a fitting fate, some sort of cosmic consequence.” She exhaled, a shuddering breath. “Clearly, I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

Keith glared at her. “You know he killed Narti to fulfill a promise he made to her, right?” he demanded.

“We know,” Ezor said quietly, her voice meek. “She came to see us. She was… really, _really_ pissed off.”

Keith could imagine.

“We don’t really know anything else about what happened to him,” Zethrid said.

Keith wasn’t buying it. “Fine, you don’t know what the witch did to him,” he snapped. “What about Sendak? You expect me to believe he just chained him down and left him alone?”

The three of them exchanged looks. “I mean… Sometimes when Sendak got frustrated, he’d take it out on Lotor,” Ezor said tentatively, refusing to meet Keith’s eyes.

“His throat was a massive bruise when we rescued him,” Keith hissed.

Ezor grimaced. “Yeah, he’d grab him by the throat sometimes. Or the hair. Or hit him in the face. It wasn’t like actual torture, at least.”

Keith growled, and Ezor’s head shot up, her eyes flaring. “What do you want from us, Keith?” she demanded. “We’ve apologized. We’ve told you what we know. We’re going to do whatever we can to make this up to Lotor – even if we’re stuck in a prison cell for the rest of our lives. What we can’t do is change the past!”

“I know!” Keith shouted. “What I don’t understand is ‘why?’ Why wouldn’t you wait to hear him out? Why just shoot him, try to turn him over, then stand by and refuse to help when he was _enslaved?_ Even when you thought he killed Narti – he was your friend too!”

“That’s the whole point!” Ezor yelled. “We were friends, and by all logical viewpoints, it looked like he betrayed us first! So we protected ourselves! You were too busy being in _love_ with him to see how the situation looked to literally everyone else!”

“And somehow I ended up being right!” Keith fired back furiously.

“Stop,” Acxa said, grabbing Ezor’s shoulder and physically dragging her back as she surged towards the glass. “Ezor, Keith’s not the one you’re angry at.”

Ezor’s face crumpled. “It wasn’t like we wanted what happened to him,” she said, her voice crackling. “Being in the stands, having to watch while they whipped him – I thought he was going to die. I thought he was gonna let his pride get him killed.” She sniffed. “We couldn’t have gotten him out anyways – no one was gonna let us alone around him. That’s why Acxa only managed it once. It was easier to believe he deserved what he got.”

Zethrid’s arms encircled her lovers, and she pulled them both protectively to her chest. “You’re not gonna say anything we don’t already know,” she said, her voice weary. “And we’re not gonna have an explanation that’s good enough for you. I know nothing would be good enough for me if someone took Ezor or Acxa from me.”

Keith sighed, deflating slightly. “I want your explanations to be good enough,” he said quietly. “I want to forgive you guys.”

Zethrid offered a sad smile. “Yeah, well, you were always kinda optimistic and naïve,” she said. “Can’t believe boot camp didn’t stamp that out of you.”

Keith shrugged. “I think it did, for a while,” he said quietly, reflecting back on his early years in the military. “Then I met Lotor.”

Zethrid’s smile turned wry. “Yeah, guess he was always kinda optimistic and naïve in his own weird way too,” she said. “Kinda bit him in the ass, though.”

Keith’s lips thinned. She wasn’t wrong.

“I should get back,” he said quietly. “I know I yelled earlier, but thanks. Wish you’d had more intel, but I guess it makes sense they wouldn’t trust you guys around Lotor.”

He’d turned, and made it two steps, before Acxa’s quiet “Keith,” made him pause. He turned, regarding her warily.

Acxa offered him a thin smile. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For visiting. Even after everything, we missed you.”

Keith hesitated, then inclined his head. “I missed you too,” he said softly.

After all, he had once considered them almost like family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter without getting too preachy and inserting too many of my Personal Opinions was... fun. The amount of stuff I cut because I realized "wait, that's the author being salty and using Keith as a mouthpiece, not something he'd actually say in this fic," was... Well, it was a lot. Whoops.
> 
> I've missed the generals. Found Family is a trope that you will pry from my cold dead hands, so now it's just a matter of getting these estranged family members to work past their differences and forgive each other. Fun times!


	55. Chapter Fifty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lotor regroup and resume work on Lotor's plan for the Empire.
> 
> Narti makes an unpopular suggestion.

Keeping the visit to the brig from Lotor felt too much like lying; Keith sought his prince out immediately upon exiting the brig. He finally found him in their room, relaxed on the bed in his sleeveless tunic and dark pants, a datapad clutched in his hands as he perused an old Altean novel of some sort.

“Keith,” Lotor acknowledged, not looking up from the datapad. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”

Keith fidgeted slightly as the door closed behind him. “I went to visit the brig,” he said. “To talk to the others.”

Lotor looked up at that, his brow furrowed. “I see,” he said quietly. “You look like you expect me to be angry.”

Keith shrugged. “I mean, it’s not me they betrayed,” he said.

“On the contrary, they did stuff you in the cockpit with me when they attempted to turn me over to my father,” Lotor said. He pushed himself to a sitting position and gestured for Keith to join him on the bed; Keith didn’t hesitate before settling down next to his prince and allowing Lotor to wrap a long arm around his waist. “I haven’t wanted to see them myself, but it’s not my place to police your comings and goings. I’m not your commanding officer anymore. You don’t answer to me.”

Keith sighed. “You’re still my prince,” he said.

“Prince of Nothing, apparently,” Lotor muttered. “Would that make you Prince-Consort, then?”

Keith snorted. “I’m serious,” he said. “Sendak’s no Emperor of mine, and I don’t follow Allura. I’m still prepared to back your plan for the universe.” He hesitated, turning over his words in his head. “We are still following your plan to gain control of the Empire, right?”

“Of course,” Lotor said quickly. “And to turn that Empire to a peaceful existence. Though I suppose my legitimacy as Emperor may be questioned even after I kill Sendak and win the following Kral Zera, given my official change in status,” he said, bitterness underlying his voice.

Keith bit his lip. “Is that why we haven’t continued working towards your plans?” he asked quietly. “Worry that even when they’ve been completed, you still won’t be able to take power?”

Lotor stilled, and his arm tightened around Keith’s waist. “Of course you’d notice,” he muttered. “I’ll… admit that it’s a factor,” he said. “I’ve already been soundly humiliated before the entire universe. To achieve my goals, only for everything to fall apart because I’m still seen only as a slave – it would make my previous humiliation seem nearly a victory.”

Keith pressed his face against Lotor’s side. “Well, forget them. Who even needs the ruggling Empire?”

“Thousands of planets and species that have grown dependent upon Imperial infrastructure and protection, for one,” Lotor replied. He pressed a fond kiss to the top of Keith’s head. “But you know that just as well as I.”

Keith sighed. He did know. “You have a point and I hate it,” he complained. “Okay, well, look at it this way – can they deny your position as Emperor if you light the flame? Even if people have a problem with it, they’ll have to accept it.”

Lotor snorted. “Only as long as I live,” he said. “I assume I’ll be fending off more assassination attempts than any of my predecessors.”

Something eased in Keith’s chest. It was a relief to see Lotor speaking like himself again – confident and assured, with no doubts that his plan would succeed. “Any assassin has to get through me first,” he growled, but he offered Lotor a grin.

“Yes, I can imagine that,” Lotor said, clearly amused. His smile faded slightly as a moment of quiet passed. “Though I’m afraid when I take the throne, you may also become a high-profile target.”

Warmth fizzled through Keith’s chest at the near-confirmation that Lotor intended to keep him by his side, even when he took over the Empire. “I can handle it,” he said.

“Mm.” Lotor unwound his hand from Keith’s waist and rose, then offered a hand to Keith. Keith flushed, but took Lotor’s hand and allowed the prince to help him to his feet. “I suppose I’ve wallowed in misery and worry for too long. Sendak’s not going to overthrow himself.”

Keith grinned. “Ready to move forward with the plan, then?”

Lotor offered a sharp-fanged smile in response. “Go get Narti, while I alert the princess to our use of the hangar,” he said. “It’s time we took what’s left of the comet’s ore and begin construction on the third and final Sincline ship.”

* * *

It was bittersweet, in a way, to be working with Lotor and Narti on the final Sincline ship. Lotor had produced schematics for the final ship, as well as a diagram detailing how the three ships would become one, much like Voltron – if far more sensibly shaped when broken down to its base ships, Keith thought. It was familiar to spend time in the hangar working on the ship, overseeing the physical construction completed by drones helpfully lent to them by Princess Allura, and stepping in for any jobs too detailed for a drone to complete.

If it weren’t for the three missing presences in the hangar, it would almost feel like they were home again.

Construction didn’t go as quickly as it had before, with only three persons to direct the drones instead of six. Quintants passed, then movements, and still construction stalled.

It didn’t help that the paladins seemed to have collectively decided that Lotor, Keith, and Narti were entirely trustworthy. It was one thing to be pulled aside to provide Voltron with support on missions – Keith could understand that, even appreciate it. It was completely different, however, when their presence was commandeered for an “emergency” that, in fact, consisted only of the paladins forcing “bonding time” on “the three self-isolating workaholics.”

As though watching movies was more important than _saving the universe._

(Keith swore to deny to his dying day that some of the movies, _maybe,_ were entertaining enough to make him appreciate the break.)

It was after one-such forced bonding time, when they had regrouped in the hangar after something called a “Disney” movie, that Narti brought up the others.

_Trying to build this ship with only three of us is going to take decaphoebs. Lotor, we should consider bringing the others in on this._

Keith froze where he stood, in the middle of giving directions to a drone. Lotor went deathly still, his hand hovering over the schematics pulled up on his datapad.

_You know I’m right, Lotor._

Lotor swallowed hard. “By “the others,” I assume you mean the paladins,” he said slowly, a tremor working through his voice.

_You know what I mean._

“Narti,” Keith hissed. She turned towards him and folded her arms across her chest.

Lotor was silent for a long moment. “After everything,” he said, his voice trembling. “After they shot me, conspired to hand me over to my father, acted on the side of my father when he attempted to kill me, then assisted the witch in putting her puppet on the throne and stood by and watched while I was tortured and enslaved – you expect me to trust them enough to _work_ with them?” he demanded, disbelieving.

_You’ve worked with people you don’t trust before – constantly, I might add. Most of your life you’ve spent working with people you don’t trust._

“This is different,” Lotor said, his eyes going distant. “Because I _did_ trust them, once. And I thought they trusted me.”

Keith frowned. Having the others work with them would speed up production, sure. And according to Lotor’s calculations, Sincline would be at its most effective and powerful with either five or six pilots – it could function with three, but not optimally.

“Narti might have a point,” he said quietly, ignoring the twinge in his chest when Lotor shot him a wounded look. “I’m not saying you should trust and forgive them, Lotor, but we’ll _know_ if they sabotage the ship.”

“I don’t _want_ to see them,” Lotor muttered, sounding almost petulant. “Had they simply betrayed me, I could forgive that. That they sat by and did _nothing_ while I was enslaved, however…”

_If it’s about what you_ want, _do you want the continued destruction of the universe at the hands of the Empire? Or do you_ want _to finish this ship, secure access to quintessence, and bring the universe to a peaceful existence?_

Lotor looked away. “I’ll discuss letting them assist us with the princess,” he said stiffly. “It’s her ship. She should know where her prisoners are.”

Keith grimaced, and turned back to his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How long has it been since Lotor did anything related to his original plan? At least like 10 - 15 chapters, or something? Yikes, I've got to get a grip on this plot or it's never gonna move forward.
> 
> Anyone attempting to assassinate Lotor absolutely must go through Keith first. He may be small, but he's not above kneecapping someone to keep them away from Lotor.


	56. Chapter Fifty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura approves the generals to assist in the creation of the final Sincline ship.
> 
> Keith reminds Lotor that he can be vulnerable around him.

Much to Lotor’s irritation, Allura cleared Ezor, Acxa, and Zethrid to assist in work on the Sincline ship, provided they were adequately supervised. Lotor didn’t outwardly express his dismay, but he could read it in the clench of his prince’s jaw, the rigid line of his shoulders, the distance in his eyes. It was agreed that the prisoners would begin assisting them the next quintant, provided they agreed to help – apparently, Alteans didn’t approve of forced labor from those they imprisoned.

Once again, the strange policies of the Alteans baffled Keith. With the skeleton crew this ship had, he understood keeping prisoners locked up for security reasons, but the Galra had never hesitated to use prisoners for labor, as far as Keith was aware – not even when they were allied with Altea.

Lotor was quiet as they returned to work on the ship for a few more vargas. He was silent through dinner, and collapsed on their bed immediately after they retired to their quarters.

Hesitantly, Keith settled down beside his prince. He reached for his hand, which Lotor allowed him to take, and squeezed gently. “Everything okay?” he asked quietly.

Lotor sighed. “You know it’s not,” he said bitterly. “Even were I convinced of their sincerity, which I am not, I find their help hollow at best. You and Narti seem to believe they’re remorseful – but they _should_ be.” He shivered. “They’re not the people I thought they were.”

Keith sighed. “I won’t let them hurt you,” he said firmly.

Lotor snorted. “Their inaction pained me far more than their active betrayal,” he muttered, his voice so soft, Keith wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear.

“You won’t have to see them outside of work on the ship,” Keith said. “They’ll still be in the brig the rest of the time.”

Lotor stared forward, his eyes distant. “I need to get myself under control,” he murmured. “I cannot display this level of weakness around them.”

Keith rolled his eyes and squeezed Lotor’s hand. “You won’t,” he said. “You didn’t display weakness around the paladins, even when they were our captors. You’ll hold it together around… them,” he said awkwardly.

Lotor didn’t respond, and Keith sighed. “You don’t have to be strong at all times when it’s just me,” he said. “You know I’d never betray you.”

Lotor’s lips twitched at that, a wan, humorless smile crossing his face. “Not on purpose, at least,” he said. Keith offered an affronted glare, and Lotor shrugged. “Narti would never betray me either, and yet she did.”

“Yeah, well, the witch hasn’t gotten to me,” Keith said. “And if she did, I’d fight her control kicking and screaming the entire time. And just like with Narti – if that ever happens, cut me down.”

Lotor’s brow furrowed, and he looked down. “I’m not sure I could bring myself to do that,” he admitted quietly. “Not you. Never you.”

Gently, Keith lifted Lotor’s hand and pressed his lips to his fingers. “Good thing it’s never gonna happen,” he said.

Lotor exhaled and reached for Keith, drawing him tightly to his chest. “In all my travels, I’ve never met anyone quite like you,” he said, tilting Keith’s chin up and leaning down to kiss him. Keith hummed, relaxing into the kiss, his mouth moving with Lotor’s, gentle and soothing.

“I’ve never met anyone like you either,” Keith said when they finally broke the kiss. “Probably because most of the people I met were Empire loyalists,” he added thoughtfully.

Lotor snorted. “I’ll be loyal to the Empire when I rule it. Does that count?”

Keith pretended to think, then shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “Because the Empire won’t be a festering piss-hole when you’re Emperor.”

Lotor barked out a startled laugh. “A rather graphic way to describe the current state of affairs,” he said, amused.

Keith shrugged and reached for Lotor, landing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. “Am I wrong?” he asked.

“You’re not,” Lotor said. “But I’d rather not think of the state of the Empire when you’re in my arms kissing me.”

And Keith… Yeah, Keith could agree with that.

Lotor’s lips met his again, this time with more passion. Lotor kissed deeply when he wanted, and Keith met him in turn, wrapping his arms around Lotor’s broad chest and chasing his prince’s mouth.

He was breathless by the time they parted. Lotor stared at him, and the blank desolation had fully faded from his eyes, replaced with a level of adoration that left Keith feeling like he was about to shiver out of his skin. Dark purple stained his cheeks, and his short hair hung, disheveled, over his eyes.

“Stars, Keith,” Lotor whispered. “I love you.”

Keith’s breath hitched as emotion, overwhelming, swelled in his chest. “You…” he whispered, his voice cracking. “What?”

“I love you,” Lotor repeated. “How someone as fiery and fierce as you can also be so gentle and comforting – I’d never have thought it possible. That someone so ruthless on the battlefield and unyielding in strategy could be so – so _kind.”_ One hand left Keith’s waist and came to cradle his face, gently stroking his jawline. “You’re a rare treasure of a man, Keith.”

He – Lotor – he _loved_ him? Keith had accepted long ago that he loved Lotor, and he knew Lotor cared for him, but –

“You love me,” Keith whispered, his heart pounding as Lotor nodded, a tender smile crossing his face. “Oh. That’s good. I’ve kinda been in love with you for a while.”

Lotor ran a tender thumb over Keith’s cheekbone. “And I am honored to have your affections,” he murmured.

Keith pressed against Lotor and wrapped his arms around the taller man’s neck. “I’m gonna kiss you again,” he whispered.

Lotor grinned and bowed his head obediently, allowing Keith’s lips to meet his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are ending here because I don't want to change the rating of this fic but I'm like 90% certain if I kept writing that scene, it was gonna end in stuff that's not appropriate for fics unless they're rated Explicit. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ These two were SUPPOSED to only have a brief talk and then move onto the next day working with the generals again, but apparently they want to be Sappy Dorks In Love.
> 
> Okay, onto a more serious note: I'm considering taking a short hiatus. This fic is my baby, and I love it and all my readers, but I might want to take some time to reconnect with my internal motivation for writing this, now that readership is dropping off post series finale. I haven't officially decided if a hiatus will actually be beneficial, but when I do decide I'll put up a post on my tumblr. Figured I'd let you guys know that there's a possibility of a few weeks without updates, rather than dropping the weekly updates with no warning.

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags.
> 
> I've chosen to moderate comments, but I still want to hear from you guys! Feedback is greatly appreciated. (Please... I live for feedback.)
> 
> The wonderful and talented Wisttic, aka Chirpingfrog on both [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ChirpingFrog) and [Tumblr](http://chirpingfrog.tumblr.com/), gets an early release of the chapters and for some reason drew fanart, which I've chosen to add to relevant chapters. I highly recommend you check out his work!
> 
> I can be found at [ashitanoyuki-on-ao3.tumblr.com](http://ashitanoyuki-on-ao3.tumblr.com/)


End file.
